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List of Illustrations 

FACING PAGE 

“ Constance studied the mountains a moment ” 

Frontispiece 


“ ‘ Hello, Gustavo ! Is that for me ? ’ ” .... 5 

“ The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown 

hair, was sitting at ease on the balustrade ” . 23 

‘‘ Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation’’ . 29 

“ He had also shifted his position so that he might 

command the profile of the girl ” .... 45 

Beppo and the donkeys.67 

“ Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of 

admiration ”.71 

“ Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching 

at each side of her saddle ”.85 

“ She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a 

window close beside Tony’s parapet” . . . 95 

“ The man bowed with a gesture which made her 

free of the book”.119 



v 






List of Illustrations 


FACING PAGE 

“ She turned the pages and paused at the week’s 

entries” . 133 

“ Constance ripped the letter open and read it 

aloud ”.149 

“ Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and 

came running forward to meet them ” . . .199 

“ The two mounted the steps of the jail and 

jerked the bell ” 253 

“ Never before had he had such overwhelming 

reason to doubt his senses ”.273 







Jerry Junior 



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J 




i 


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Jerry Junior 


CHAPTER I 

HE courtyard of the Hotel du 
Lac, furnished with half a 
dozen tables and chairs, a red 
and green parrot chained to a 
perch, and a shady little arbor covered 
with vines, is a pleasant enough place for 
morning coffee, but decidedly too sunny 
for afternoon tea. It was close upon four 
of a July day, when Gustavo, his insepara¬ 
ble napkin floating from his arm, emerged 
from the cool dark doorway of the house 
and scanned the burning vista of tables 
and chairs. He would never, under ordi¬ 
nary circumstances, have interrupted his 
siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but 
this particular letter was addressed to the 
young American man, and young Ameri- 

3 







Jerry Junior 

can men, as every head waiter knows, are 
an unreasonably impatient lot. The court¬ 
yard was empty, as he might have fore¬ 
seen, and he was turning with a patient 
sigh towards the long arbor that led to the 
lake, when the sound of a rustling paper 
in the summer house deflected his course. 
He approached the doorway and looked in¬ 
side. 

The young American man, in white flan¬ 
nels with a red guide-book protruding 
from his pocket, was comfortably stretched 
in a lounging chair engaged with a cigar¬ 
ette and a copy of the Paris Herald. He 
glanced up with a yawn—excusable under 
the circumstances—but as his eye fell upon 
the letter he sprang to his feet. 

“Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?” 

Gustavo bowed. 

u Ecco! She is at last arrive, ze lettair 
for which you haf so moch weesh.” He 
bowed a second time and presented it. 
“Meestair Jayreen Ailyar!” 

The young man laughed. 

“I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, Gus- 

4 


Jerry Junior 

tavo, but I'm not sure I should answer if 
my eyes were shut.” 

He picked up the letter, glanced at the 
address to make sure—the name was 
Jerymn Hilliard Jr.—and ripped it open 
with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Then 
he glanced up and caught Gustavo's ex¬ 
pression. Gustavo came of a romantic 
race; there was a gleam of sympathetic 
interest in his eye. 

“Oh, you need n't look so knowing! I 
suppose you think this is a love letter? 
Well it's not. It is, since you appear to 
be interested, a letter from my sister in¬ 
forming me that they will arrive tonight, 
and that we will pull out for Riva by the 
first boat tomorrow morning. Not that 
I want to leave you, Gustavo, but—Oh, 
thunder!” 

He finished the reading in a frowning 
silence while the waiter stood at polite at¬ 
tention, a shade of anxiety in his eye— 
there was usually anxiety in his eye when 
it rested on Jerymn Hilliard Jr. One 
could never foresee what the young man 

7 


Jerry Junior 

would call for next. Yesterday he had 
rung the bell and demanded a partner to 
play lawn tennis, as if the hotel kept part¬ 
ners laid away in drawers like so many 
sheets. 

He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it 
in his pocket. 

“I say, Gustavo, what do you think of 
this? They ’re going to stay in Lucerne 
till the tenth—that’s next week—and they 
hope I don’t mind waiting; it will be nice 
for me to have a rest. A rest , man, and 
I ’ve already spent three days in Vale- 
dolmo!” 

“Si, signore, you will desire ze same 
room ?” was as much as Gustavo thought. 

“Ze same room? Oh, I suppose so.” 

He sank back into his chair and plunged 
his hands into his pockets with an air of 
sombre resignation. The waiter hovered 
over him, divided between a desire to re¬ 
turn to his siesta, and a sympathetic inter¬ 
est in the young man’s troubles. Never 
before in the history of his connection 
with the Hotel du Lac had Gustavo expe- 
8 


Jerry Junior 

rienced such a munificent, companion¬ 
able, expansive, entertaining, thoroughly 
unique and inexplicable guest. Even the 
fact that he was American scarcely ac¬ 
counted for everything. 

The young man raised his head and eyed 
his companion gloomily. 

“Gustavo, have you a sister?” 

“A sister?” Gustavo’s manner was un¬ 
comprehending but patient. “Si, signore, 
I have eight sister.” 

“Eight! Merciful saints. How do you 
manage to be so cheerful?” 

“Tree is married, signore, one uvver is 
betrofed, one is in a convent, one is dead 
and two is babies.” 

“I see—they ’re pretty well disposed of; 
but the babies will grow up, Gustavo, and 
as for that betrothed one, I should still be 
a little nervous if I were you; you can 
never be sure they are going to stay be¬ 
trothed. I hope she does n’t spend her 
time chasing over the map of Europe 
making appointments with you to meet 
her in unheard of little mountain villages 

9 


Jerry Junior 

where the only approach to Christian read¬ 
ing matter is a Paris Herald four days 
old, and then does n't turn up to keep her 
appointments ?" 

Gustavo blinked. His supple back 
achieved another bow. 

“Sank you," he murmured. 

“And you don't happen to have an 
aunt?" 

“An aunt, signore?" There was vague¬ 
ness in his tone. 

“Yes, Gustavo, an aunt. A female rela¬ 
tive who reads you like an open book, who 
sees your faults and skips your virtues, 
who remembers how dear and good and 
obliging your father was at your age, who 
hoped great things of you when you were 
a baby, who had intended to make you her 
heir but has about decided to endow an 
orphan asylum—have you, Gustavo, by 
chance an aunt ?" 

“Si, signore." 

“I do not think you grasp my question. 
An aunt —the sister of your father, or 
perhaps your mother." 


io 


Jerry Junior 

A gleam of illumination swept over Gus¬ 
tavo's troubled features. 

“Ecco! You would know if I haf a zia 
—a aunt—yes, zat is it. A aunt. Sicurce¬ 
ment e, signore, I haf ten—leven aunt." 

"Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I 
am speechless; you need say no more, Gus¬ 
tavo, from this moment we are friends." 

He held out his hand. Gustave re¬ 
garded it dazedly; then, since it seemed to 
be expected, he gingerly presented his 
own. The result was a shining newly- 
minted two-lire piece. He pocketed it 
with a fresh succession of bows. 

“Grazie tcento! Has ze signore need of 
anysing?" 

"Have I need of anysing?" There was 
reproach, indignation, disgust in the 
young man's tone. "How can you ask 
such a question, Gustavo? Here am I, 
three days in Valedolmo, with seven more 
stretching before me. I have plenty of 
towels and soap and soft-boiled eggs, if 
that is what you mean; but a man's spirit 
cannot be nourished on soap and soft- 


ii 


Jerry Junior 

boiled eggs. What I need is food for the 
mind—diversion, distraction, amusement 
—no, Gustavo, you need n’t offer me the 
Paris Herald again. I already know by 
heart the list of guests in every hotel in 
Switzerland.” 

“Ah, it is diversion zat you wish ? Have 
you seen zat ver’ beautiful Luini in ze 
chapel of San Bartolomeo ? It is four hun¬ 
dred years old.” 

“Yes, Gustavo, I have seen the Luini in 
the chapel of San Bartolomeo. I derived 
all the pleasure to be got out of it the first 
afternoon I came.” 

“Ze garden of Prince Sartonio-Crevelli? 
Has ze signore seen ze cedar of Lebanon 
in ze garden of ze prince?” 

“Yes, Gustavo, the signore has seen the 
cedar of Lebanon in the garden of the 
prince, also the ilex tree two hundred 
years old and the india-rubber plant from 
South America. They are extremely 
beautiful but they don’t last a week.” 

“Have you swimmed in ze lake?” 

“It is lukewarm, Gustavo.” 


12 


Jerry Junior 

The waiter's eyes roved anxiously. 
They lighted on the lunette of shimmering 
water and purple mountains visible at the 
farther end of the arbor. 

“Zere is ze view," he suggested humbly. 
“Ze view from ze water front is consider 
ver' beautiful, ver' nice. Many foreigners 
come entirely for him. You can see Lago 
di Garda, Monte Brione, Monte Baldo wif 
ze ruin castle of ze Scaliger, Monte Mag- 
giore, ze Altissimo di Nago, ze snow cover 
peak of Monte—" 

Mr. Jermyn Hilliard Jr. stopped him 
with a gesture. 

"That will do; I read Baedeker myself, 
and I saw them all the first night I came. 
You must know at your age, Gustavo, that 
a man can't enjoy a view by himself; it 
takes two for that sort of thing—Yes, the 
truth is that I am lonely. You can see 
yourself to what straits I am pushed for 
conversation. If I had your command of 
language, now, I would talk to the Ger¬ 
man Alpine climbers." 

An idea flashed over Gustavo's features. 


13 


Jerry Junior 

“Ah, zat is it! Why does not ze signore 
climb mountains? Ver’ helful; ver’ di¬ 
verting. I find guide.” 

“You need n’t bother. Your guide 
would be Italian, and it ’s too much of a 
strain to talk to a man all day in dumb 
show.” He folded his arms with a weary 
sigh. “A week of Valedolmo! An eter¬ 
nity!” 

Gustavo echoed the sigh. Though he 
did not entirely comprehend the trouble, 
still, he was of a generously sympathetic 
nature. 

“It is a pity,” he observed casually, “zat 
you are not acquaint wif ze Signor Ameri¬ 
cano who lives in Villa Rosa. He also 
finds Valedolmo undiverting. He comes 
—but often—to talk wif me. He has fear 
of forgetting how to spik Angleesh, he 
says.” 

The young man opened his eyes. 

“What are you talking about—a Signor 
Americano here in Valedolmo?” 

“Sicuramente, in zat rose-color villa wif 
ze cypress trees and ze terrazzo on ze 
14 


Jerry Junior 

lake. His daughter, la Signorina Costan- 
tina, she live wif him—ver’ yong, ver’ 
beautiful—” Gustavo rolled his eyes and 
clasped his hands—“beautiful like ze an¬ 
gels in Paradise—and she spik Italia like I 
spik Angleesh.” 

Jermyn Hilliard Jr. unfolded his arms 
and sat up alertly. 

“You mean to tell me that you had an 
American family up your sleeve all this 
time and never said a word about it?” His 
tone was stern. 

“Scusi, signore, I have not known zat 
you have ze plaisir of zer acquaintance.” 

“The pleasure of their acquaintance! 
Good heavens, Gustavo, when one ship¬ 
wrecked man meets another ship-wrecked 
man on a desert island must they be intro¬ 
duced before they can speak?” 

“Si, signore.” 

“And why, may I ask, should an intelli¬ 
gent American family be living in Vale- 
dolmo?” 

“I do not know, signore. I have heard 
ze Signor Papa’s healf was no good, and 

15 


Jerry Junior 

ze doctors in Americk’ zay say to heem, 
'you need change, to breave ze beautiful 
climate of Italia/ And he say, 'all right, 
I go to Valedolmo/ It is small, signore, 
but ver’ famosa. Oh, yes, molto famosa. 
In ze autumn and ze spring foreigners 
come from all ze world—Angleesh, French, 
German— tutti! Ze Hotel du Lac is full. 
Every day we turn peoples away.” 

"So! I seem to have struck the wrong 
season. —But about this American family, 
what ’s their name?” 

"La familia Veeldair from Nuovo 
York.” 

"Veeldair.” He shook his head. 
"That’s not American, Gustavo, at least 
when you say it. But never mind, if they 
come from New York it ? s all right. How 
many are there—just two?” 

"But no! Ze papa and ze signorina 
and ze—ze—” he rolled his eyes in search 
of the word—"ze aunt!” 

"Another aunt! The sky appears to be 
raining aunts today. What does she do 
for amusement—the signorina who is 
beautiful as the angels?” 

16 


Jerry Junior 

Gustavo spread out his hands. 

“Valedolmo, signore, is on ze frontier. 
It is—what you say—garrison citta. 
Many soldiers, many officers—captains, 
lieutenants, wif uniforms and swords. Zay 
take tea on ze terrazzo wif ze Signor Papa 
and ze Signora Aunt, and most special- 
mente wif ze Signorina Costantina. Ze 
Signor Papa say he come for his healf, but 
if you ask me, I sink maybe he come to 
marry his daughter/' 

“I see! And yet, Gustavo, American 
papas are generally not so keen as you 
might suppose about marrying their 
daughters to foreign captains and lieu¬ 
tenants even if they have got uniforms 
and swords. I should n't be surprised if 
the Signor Papa were just a little nervous 
over the situation. It seems to me there 
might be an opening for a likely young 
fellow speaking the English language, 
even if he has n't a uniform and sword. 
How does he strike you?" 

“Si, signore." 

“I 'm glad you agree with me. It is 
now five minutes past four; do you think 
17 


Jerry Junior 

the American family would be taking a 
siesta?” 

“I do not know, signore.” Gustavo’s 
tone was still patient. 

“And whereabouts is the rose-colored 
villa with the terrace on the lake?” 

“It is a quarter of a hour beyond ze 
Porta Sant’ Antonio. If ze gate is shut 
you ring at ze bell and Giuseppe will open. 
But ze road is ver’ hot and ver’ dusty. It 
is more cooler to take ze paf by ze lake. 
Straight to ze left for ten minutes and 
step over ze wall; it is broken in zat place 
and quite easy.” 

“Thank you, that is a wise suggestion; 
I shall step over the wall by all means.” 
He jumped to his feet and looked about 
for his hat. “You turn to the left and 
straight ahead for ten minutes? Good¬ 
bye then till dinner. I go in search of 
the Signorina Costantina who is beauti¬ 
ful as the angels in Paradise, and who 
lives in a rose-colored villa set in a cypress 
grove on the shores of Lake Garda—not 
a bad setting for romance, is it, Gus- 
18 


Jerry Junior 

tavo?—Dinner, I believe, is at seven 
o’clock?” 

“Si, signore, at seven; and would you 
like veal cooked Milanese fashion?” 

“Nothing would please me more. We 
have only had veal Milanese fashion five 
times since I came.” 

He waved his hand jauntily and strolled 
whistling down the arbor that led to the 
lake. Gustavo looked after him and shook 
his head. Then he took out the two-lire 
piece and rang it on the table. The metal 
rang true. He shrugged his shoulders and 
turned back indoors to order the veal. 


19 


CHAPTER II 


HE terrace of Villa Rosa juts 
out into the lake, bordered on 
three sides by a stone parapet, 
and shaded above by a yellow- 
ochre awning. Masses of oleanders hang 
over the wall and drop pink petals into the 
blue waters below. As a study in color the 
terrace is perfect, but, like the court-yard 
of the Hotel du Lac, decidedly too hot for 
mid-afternoon. To the right of the ter¬ 
race, however, is a shady garden set in al¬ 
leys of cypress trees, and separated from 
the lake by a strip of beach and a low bal¬ 
ustrade. There could be no better resting 
place for a warm afternoon. 

It was close upon four—five minutes 
past to be accurate—and the usual after¬ 
noon quiet that enveloped the garden had 
fled before the garrulous advent of four 
20 









Jerry Junior 

girls. Three of them, with black eyes and 
blacker hair, were kneeling on the beach 
thumping and scrubbing a pile of linen. 
In spite of their chatter they were working 
busily, and the grass beyond the water- 
wall was already white with bleaching 
sheets, while a lace trimmed petticoat flut¬ 
tered from a near-by oleander, and a row 
of silk stockings stretched the length of 
the parapet. The most undeductive ob¬ 
server would have guessed by this time 
that the pink villa, visible through the 
trees, contained no such modern conve¬ 
niences as stationary tubs. 

The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yel¬ 
low-brown hair, was sitting at ease on the 
balustrade, fanning herself with a wide 
brimmed hat and dangling her feet, clad in 
white tennis shoes, over the edge. She 
wore a suit of white linen cut sailor fash¬ 
ion, low at the throat and with sleeves 
rolled to the elbows. She looked very 
cool and comfortable and free as she 
talked, with the utmost friendliness, to 
the three girls below. Her Italian, to an 


21 


Jerry Junior 

unaccustomed ear, was exactly as glib as 
theirs. 

The washer-girls were dressed in the 
gayest of peasant clothes—green and scar¬ 
let petticoats, flowered kerchiefs, coral 
beads and flashing earrings; you would 
have to go far into the hills in these degen¬ 
erate days before meeting their match on 
an Italian highway. But the girl on the 
wall, who was actual if not titular ruler of 
the domain of Villa Rosa, possessed a keen 
eye for effect; and—she plausibly argued 
— since one must have washer-women 
about, why not, in the name of all that is 
beautiful, have them in harmony with tra¬ 
dition and the landscape? Accordingly, 
she designed and purchased their costumes 
herself. 

There drifted presently into sight from 
around the little promontory that hid the 
village, a blue and white boat with yellow 
lateen sails. She was propelled gondolier 
fashion, for the wind was a mere breath, 
by a picturesque youth in a suit of dark 
blue with white sash and flaring collar- 


22 


The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at ease 

on the balustrade ” 











































Jerry Junior 

the hand of the girl on the wall was here 
visible also. 

The boat fluttering in toward shore, 
looked like a giant butterfly; and her 
name, emblazoned in gold on her prow, 
was, appropriately, the Farfalla. Ear¬ 
lier in the season, with a green hull and a 
dingy brown sail, she had been prosaically 
enough, the Maria. But since the ad¬ 
vent of the girl all this had been changed. 
The Farfalla dropped her yellow wings 
with the air of a salute, and lighted at the 
foot of the water-steps under the terrace. 
The girl on the parapet leaned forward 
eagerly. 

“Did you get any mail, Giuseppe ?” she 
called. 

“Si, signorina.” He scrambled up the 
steps and presented a copy of the London 
T imes. 

She received it with a shrug. Clearly, 
she felt little interest in the London Times. 
Giuseppe took himself back to his boat and 
commenced fussing about its fittings, dust¬ 
ing the seats, plumping up the cushions, 

25 


Jerry Junior 

with an air of absorption which deceived 
nobody. The signorina watched him a 
moment with amused comprehension, then 
she called peremptorily: 

“Giuseppe, you know you must spade 
the garden border.” 

Poor Giuseppe, in spite of his nautical 
costume, was man of all work. He 
glanced dismally toward the garden bor¬ 
der which lay basking in the sunshine un¬ 
der the wall that divided Villa Rosa from 
the rest of the world. It contained every 
known flower which blossoms in July in 
the kingdom of Italy from camellias and 
hydrangeas to heliotrope and wall flowers. 
Its spading was a complicated business 
and it lay too far off to permit of conversa¬ 
tion. Giuseppe was not only a lazy, but 
also a social soul. 

“Signorina,” he suggested, “would you 
not like a sail?” 

She shook her head. “There is not wind 
enough and it is too hot and too sunny.” 

“But yes, there ’s a wind, and cool— 
when you get out on the lake. I will put 
26 


Jerry Junior 

up the awning, signorina, the sun shall 
not touch you.” 

She continued to shake her head and her 
eyes wandered suggestively to the hydran¬ 
geas, but Giuseppe still made a feint of 
preoccupation. Not being a cruel mis¬ 
tress, she dropped the subject, and turned 
back to her conversation with the washer- 
girls. They were discussing—a pleasant 
topic for a sultry summer afternoon—the 
probable content of Paradise. The three 
girls were of the opinion that it was made 
up of warm sunshine and cool shade, of 
flowers and singing birds and sparkling 
waters, of blue skies and cloud-capped 
mountains—not unlike, it will be observed, 
the very scene which at the moment 
stretched before them. In so much they 
were all agreed, but there were several de¬ 
batable points. Whether the stones were 
made of gold, and whether the houses were 
not gold too, and, that being the case, 
whether it would not hurt your eyes to 
look at them. Marietta declared, blas¬ 
phemously, as the others thought, that she 
27 


Jerry Junior 

preferred a simple gray stone villa or at 
most one of pink stucco, to all the golden 
edifices that Paradise contained. 

It was by now fifteen minutes past four, 
and a spectator had arrived, though none 
of the five were aware of his presence. 
The spectator was standing on the wall 
above the garden border examining with 
appreciation the idyllic scene below him, 
and with most particular appreciation, the 
dainty white-clad person of the girl on the 
balustrade. He was wondering—anx¬ 
iously—how he might make his presence 
known. For no very tangible reason he 
had suddenly become conscious that the 
matter would be easier if he carried in his 
pocket a letter of introduction. The pur¬ 
lieus of Villa Rosa in no wise resembled 
a desert island; and in the face of that very 
fluent Italian, the suspicion was forcing it¬ 
self upon him that after all, the mere fact 
of a common country was not a sufficient 
bond of union. He had definitely decided 
to withdraw, when the matter was taken 
from his hands. 


28 



ci Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation 


















































































































Jerry Junior 

The wall—as Gustavo had pointed out 
—was broken; it was owing to this fact 
that he had been so easily able to climb it. 
Now, as he stealthily turned, preparing to 
re-descend in the direction whence he had 
come, the loose stone beneath his foot 
slipped and he slipped with it. Five 
startled pairs of eyes were turned in his 
direction. What they saw, was a young 
man in flannels suddenly throw up his 
arms, slide into an azalea bush, from this 
to the balustrade, and finally land on all 
fours on the narrow strip of beach, a 
shower of pink petals and crumbling ma¬ 
sonry falling about him. A momentary 
silence followed; then the washer-girls, 
making sure that he was not injured, broke 
into a shrill chorus of laughter, while the 
Farfalla rocked under impact of Giu¬ 
seppe’s mirth. The girl on the wall alone 
remained grave. 

The young man picked himself up, re¬ 
stored his guide book to his pocket, and 
blushingly stepped forward, hat in hand, 
to make an apology. One knee bore a 
3i 


Jerry Junior 

splash of mud, and his tumbled hair was 
sprinkled with azalea blossoms. 

“I beg your pardon/' he stammered, “I 
did n't mean to come so suddenly; I 'm 
afraid I broke your wall." 

The girl dismissed the matter with a 
polite gesture. 

“It was already broken," and then she 
waited with an air of grave attention until 
he should state his errand. 

“I—I came—" He paused and glanced 
about vaguely; he could not at the moment 
think of any adequate reason to account 
for his coming. 

“Yes?" 

Her eyes studied him with what ap¬ 
peared at once a cool and an amused scru¬ 
tiny. He felt himself growing red be¬ 
neath it. 

“Can I do anything for you?" she 
prompted with the kind desire of putting 
him at his ease. 

“Thank you—" He grasped at the first 
idea that presented itself. “I'm stopping 
at the Hotel du Lac and Gustavo, you 
32 


Jerry Junior 

know, told me there was a villa somewhere 
around here that belongs to Prince Some¬ 
one or Other. If you ring at the gate and 
give the gardener two francs and a visit¬ 
ing card, he will let you walk around and 
look at the trees.” 

“I see!” said the girl, “and so now you 
are looking for the gate?” Her tone sug¬ 
gested that she suspected him of trying to 
avoid both it and the two francs. “Prince 
Sartorio-Crevelli’s villa is about half a 
mile farther on.” 

“Ah, thank you,” he bowed a second 
time, and then added out of the desperate 
need of saying something, “There ’s a 
cedar of Lebanon in it and an India rubber 
plant from South America.” 

“Indeed!” 

She continued to observe him with polite 
interest, though she made no move to 
carry on the conversation. 

“You—are an American?” he asked 
at length. 

“Oh, yes,” she agreed easily. “Gus¬ 
tavo knows that.” 


33 


Jerry Junior 

He shifted his weight. 

“I am an American too,” he observed. 

“Really?” The girl leaned forward 
and examined him more closely, an inno¬ 
cent, candid, wholly detached look in her 
eyes. “From your appearance I should 
have said you were German—most of the 
foreigners who visit Valedolmo are Ger¬ 
man.” 

“Well, I’m not,” he said shortly. “I’m 
American.” 

“It is a pity my father is not at home,” 
she returned, “he enjoys meeting Ameri¬ 
cans.” 

A gleam of anger replaced the embar¬ 
rassment in the young man’s eyes. He 
glanced about for a dignified means of es¬ 
cape; they had him pretty well penned in. 
Unless he wished to reclimb the wall—and 
he did not—he must go by the terrace 
which retreat was cut off by the washer¬ 
women, or by the parapet, already occu¬ 
pied by the girl in white and the washing. 
He turned abruptly and his elbow brushed 
a stocking to the ground. 

34 


Jerry Junior 

He stooped to pick it up and then he 
blushed still a shade deeper. 

“This is washing day,” observed the girl 
with a note of apology. She rose to her 
feet and stood on the top of the parapet 
while she beckoned to Giuseppe, then she 
turned and looked down upon the young 
man with an expression of frank amuse¬ 
ment. “I hope you will enjoy the cedar of 
Lebanon and the India rubber tree. Good 
afternoon.” 

She jumped to the ground and crossed 
to the water-steps where Giuseppe, with a 
radiant smile, was steadying the boat 
against the landing. She settled herself 
comfortably among the cushions and then 
for a moment glanced back towards shore. 

“You would better go out by the gate,” 
she called. “The wall on the farther side 
is harder to climb than the one you came 
in by; and besides, it has broken glass on 
the top.” 

Giuseppe raised the yellow sail and the 
Farfalla with a graceful dip, glided out to 
sea. The young man stood eyeing its 

35 


Jerry Junior 

progress revengefully. Now that the girl 
was out of hearing, a number of pointed 
things occurred to him which he might 
have said. His thoughts were interrupted 
by a fresh giggle from behind and he 
found that the three washer-girls were 
laughing at him. 

“Your mistress's manners are not the 
best in the world," said he, severely, “and 
I am obliged to add that yours are no bet¬ 
ter." 

They giggled again, though there was 
no malice behind their humor; it was 
merely that they found the lack of a lan¬ 
guage in common a mirth-provoking cir¬ 
cumstance. Marietta, with a flash of black 
eyes, murmured something very kindly in 
Italian, as she shook out a linen sailor 
suit—the exact twin of the one that had 
gone to sea—and spread it on the wall 
to dry. 

The young man did not linger for 
further words. Setting his hat firmly on 
his head, he vaulted the parapet and strode 
off down the cypress alley that stretched 

36 


Jerry Junior 

before him; he passed the pink villa with¬ 
out a glance. At the gate he stood aside 
to admit a horse and rider. The horse was 
prancing in spite of the heat; the rider 
wore a uniform and a shining sword. 
There was a clank of accoutrements as he 
passed, and the wayfarer caught a gleam 
of piercing black eyes and a slight black 
moustache turned up at the ends. The 
rider saluted politely and indifferently, 
and jangled on. The young man scowled 
after him maliciously until the cypresses 
hid him from view; then he turned and 
took up the dusty road back towards the 
Hotel du Lac. 

It was close upon five, and Gustavo was 
in the court-yard feeding the parrot, when 
his eye fell upon the American guest scuf¬ 
fling down the road in a cloud of white 
dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to 
welcome him back, his very eyebrows ex¬ 
pressive of his eagerness for news. 

“You are returned, signore?” 

The young man paused and regarded 
him unemotionally. 


37 


Jerry Junior 

“Yes, Gustavo, I am returned—with 
thanks.” 

“You have seen ze Signorina Costan- 
tina?” 

“Yes, I saw her.” 

“And is it not as I have said, zat she is 
beautiful as ze holy angels?” 

“Yes, Gustavo, she is—and just about 
equally remote. You may make out my 
bill.” 

The waiter’s face clouded. 

“You do not wish to remain longer, sig¬ 
nore?” 

“Can’t stand it, Gustavo; it ’s too in¬ 
fernally restful.” 

Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower 
of tips vanishing into nothing. His face 
was rueful but his manner was undimin- 
ishingly polite. 

“Si, signore, sank you. When shall you 
wish ze omnibus?” 

“Tomorrow morning for the first boat.” 

Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and 
the young man passed on. He paused half 
way across the court-yard. 

38 


Jerry Junior 

“What time does the first boat leave ?” 
“At half past five, signore.” 

“Er—no—I 'll take the second.” 

“Si, signore. At half-past ten.” 


3 


39 


CHAPTER III 


T was close upon ten when 
Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped 
for travel in proper blue 
serge, appeared in the door¬ 
way of the Hotel du Lac. He looked at 
his watch and discovered that he still had 
twenty minutes before the omnibus meet¬ 
ing the second boat was due. He strolled 
across the court-yard, paused for a mo¬ 
ment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on 
to his favorite seat in the summer house. 
He had barely established himself with 
a cigarette when who should appear in the 
gateway but Miss Constance Wilder of 
Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man—at a 
glance the Signor Papa. Jerymn Hil¬ 
liard’s heart doubled its beat. Why, he 
asked himself excitedly, why had they 
come ? 



40 





Jerry Junior 

The Signor Papa closed his green um¬ 
brella, and having dropped into a chair— 
obligingly near the summer house—took 
off his hat and fanned himself. He had a 
tendency toward being stout and felt the 
heat. The girl, meanwhile, crossed the 
court and jangled the bell; she waited two 
— three—minutes, then she pulled the rope 
again. 

“Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!” 

The bell might have been rung by any¬ 
one—the fisherman, the omnibus-driver, 
Suor Celestina from the convent asking 
her everlasting alms—and Gustavo took 
his time. But the voice was unmistakable; 
he waited only to throw a clean napkin 
over his arm before hurrying to answer. 

“Buon giorno, signorina! Good morn¬ 
ing, signore. It is beautiful wea-thir, but 
warm. Gia, it is warm.” 

He bowed and smiled and rubbed his 
hands together. His moustaches, fairly 
bristling with good will, turned up in a 
half circle until they caressed his nose on 
either side. He bustled about placing 
4i 


Jerry Junior 

table and chairs, and recklessly dusting 
them with the clean napkin. The sig- 
norina laid her fluffy white parasol on one 
chair and seated herself on another, her 
profile turned to the summer house. Gus¬ 
tavo hovered over them, awaiting their 
pleasure, the genius itself of respectful de¬ 
votion. It was Constance who gave the 
order—she, it might be noticed, gave most 
of the orders that were given in her vicin¬ 
ity. She framed it in English out of defer¬ 
ence to Gustavo’s pride in his knowledge 
of the language. 

“A glass of vino santo for the Signore 
and limonata for me. I wish to put the 
sugar in myself, the last time you mixed 
it, Gustavo, it was all sugar and no lemon. 
And bring a bowl of cracked ice —Uno 
— fino —and some pine nut cakes if you are 
sure they are fresh.” 

“Sank you, signorina. Subitissimo!” 

He was off across the court, his black 
coat-tails, his white napkin streaming be¬ 
hind, proclaiming to all the world that he 
was engaged on the Signorina Ameri- 
42 


Jerry Junior 

cana’s bidding; for persons of lesser note 
he still preserved a measure of dignity. 

The young man in the summer house 
had meanwhile dropped his cigarette upon 
the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He 
had also—with the utmost caution lest the 
chair creak—shifted his position so that 
he might command the profile of the girl. 
The entrance to the summer house was 
fortunately on the other side, and in all 
likelihood they would not have occasion to 
look within. It was eavesdropping of 
course, but he had already been convicted 
of that yesterday, and in any case it was 
not such very bad eavesdropping. The 
court-yard of the Hotel du Lac was public 
property; he had been there first, he was 
there by rights as a guest of the house; if 
anything, they were the interlopers. Be¬ 
sides, nobody talked secrets with a head 
waiter. His own long conversations with 
Gustavo were as open and innocent as the 
day; the signorina was perfectly welcome 
to listen to them as much as she chose. 

She was sitting with her chin in her 

43 


Jerry Junior 

hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails of Gus¬ 
tavo, a touch of amusement in her face. 
Her father was eyeing her severely. 

“Constance, it is disgraceful!” 

She laughed. Apparently she already 
knew or divined what it was that was dis¬ 
graceful, but the accusation did not appear 
to bother her much. Mr. Wilder pro¬ 
ceeded grumblingly. 

“It ’s bad enough with those five de¬ 
luded officers, but they walked into the 
trap with their eyes open and it ’s their 
own affair. But look at Gustavo; he can 
scarcely carry a dish without breaking it 
when you are watching him. And Giu¬ 
seppe—that confounded Farfalla with its 
yellow sails floats back and forth in front 
of the terrace till I am on the point of 
having it scuttled as a public nuisance; 
and those three washer-women and the 
post-office clerk and the boy who brings 
milk, and Luigi and—every man, woman 
and child in the village of Valedolmo!” 

“And my own dad as well?” 

Mr. Wilder shook his head. 


44 


He had also shifted his position so that he might command the 

profile of the girl ” 



























































































































































































































































Jerry Junior 

“I came here at your instigation for rest 
and relaxation—to get rid of nervous wor¬ 
ries, and here I find a big new worry wait¬ 
ing for me that I ’d never thought of hav¬ 
ing before. What if my only daughter 
should take it in her head to marry one of 
these infernally good-looking Italian offi¬ 
cers ?” 

Constance reached over and patted his 
arm. 

“Don’t let it bother you, Dad; I assure 
you I won’t do anything of the sort. I 
should think it my duty to learn the sub¬ 
junctive mood, and that is impossible.” 

Gustavo came hurrying back with a 
tray. He arranged the glasses, the ice, 
the sugar, the cakes, with loving, elaborate 
obsequiousness. The signorina examined 
the ice doubtfully, then with approval. 

“It ’s exactly right to-day, Gustavo! 
You got it too large the last time, you re¬ 
member.” 

She stirred in some sugar and tasted it 
tentatively, her head on one side. Gus¬ 
tavo hung upon her expression in an agony 

47 


Jerry Junior 

of apprehension; one would have thought 
it a matter for public mourning if the 
lemonade were not mixed exactly right. 
But apparently it was right—she nodded 
and smiled—and Gustavo’s expression as¬ 
sumed relief. Constance broke open a pine 
nut cake and settled herself for conversa¬ 
tion. 

"Have n’t you any guests, Gustavo?” 
Her eyes glanced over the empty court¬ 
yard. "I am afraid the hotel is not hav¬ 
ing a very prosperous season.” 

“Grazie, signorina. Zer never are many 
in summer; it is ze dead time, but still zay 
come and zay go. Seven arrive last 
night.” 

"Seven! That ’s nice. What are they 
like?” 

"German mountain-climbers wif nails in 
zer shoes. Zey have gone to Riva on ze 
first boat.” 

"That ’s too bad—then the hotel is 
empty?” 

"But no! Zer is an Italian Signora wif 
two babies and a governess, and two 
48 


Jerry Junior 

English ladies and an American gentle¬ 
man—^ 

“An American gentleman ?” Her tone 
was languidly interested. “How long has 
he been here? ,, 

“Tree—four day.” 

“Indeed—what is he like?” 

“Nice—ver’ nice.” (Gustavo might 
well say that; his pockets were lined with 
the American gentleman’s silver lire.) 
“He talk to me always. 'Gustavo/ he say, 
T am all alone; I wish to be ’mused. Come 
and talk Angleesh.’ Yes, it is true; I have 
no time to finish my work; I spend whole 
day talking wif dis yong American gentle¬ 
man. He is just a little—” He touched 
his head significantly. 

“Really?” She raised her eyes with an 
air of awakened interest. “And how did 
he happen to come to Valedolmo?” 

“He come to meet his family, his sister 
and his—his aunt, who are going wif him 
to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. 
Zey are in Lucerne, he s?ys, where zer is a 
lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is 

49 



Jerry Junior 

dead; zen zey come.—Yes, it is true; he 
tell me zat.” Gustavo tapped his head a 
second time. 

The signorina glanced about apprehen¬ 
sively. 

“Is he safe, Gustavo—to be about ?” 

“Si, signorina, sicuramente! He is just 
a little simple.” 

Mr. Wilder chuckled. 

“Where is he, Gustavo? I think I ’d 
like to make that young man’s acquaint¬ 
ance.” 

“I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. 
He go away today.” 

“Today, Gustavo ?“ There was audi¬ 
ble regret in Constance’s tone. “Why is 
he going?” 

“It is not possible for him to stand it, 
signorina. Valedolmo too dam slow.” 

“Gustavo! You must n’t say that; it is 
very, very bad. Nice men don’t say it.” 

Gustavo held his ground. 

“Si, signorina, zat yong American gen¬ 
tleman say it—dam slow, no diverti¬ 
mento” 


50 


Jerry Junior 

“He *s just about right, Gustavo,” Mr. 
Wilder broke in. “The next time a young 
American gentleman blunders into the 
Hotel du Lac you send him around to 
me.” 

“Si, signore.” 

Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the sig- 
norina; she continued to sip her lemonade. 

“I have told him yesterday an American 
family live at Villa Rosa; he say 'All right, 
I go call/ but—but I sink maybe you were 
not at home.” 

“Oh!” The signorina raised her head 
in apparent enlightenment. “So that was 
the young man ? Yes, to be sure, he came, 
but he said he was looking for Prince Sar- 
torio’s villa. I am sorry you were away, 
Father, you would have enjoyed him; his 
English was excellent.—Did he tell you he 
saw me, Gustavo ?” 

“Si, signorina, he tell me.” 

“What did he say? Did he think I was 
nice?” 

Gustavo looked embarrassed. 

“I—I no remember, signorina.” 

5i 


Jerry Junior 

She laughed and to his relief changed 
the subject. 

'Those English ladies who are staying 
here—what do they look like? Are they 
young ?” 

Gustavo delivered himself of an inimita¬ 
ble gesture which suggested that the Eng¬ 
lish ladies had entered the bounds of that 
indefinite period when the subject of age 
must be politely waived. 

"They are tall, signorina, and of a thin¬ 
ness—you would not believe it possible.” 

"I see! And so the poor young man 
was bored ?” 

Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no 
connection. 

"He was awfully good-looking/’ she 
added with a sigh. "I’m afraid I made a 
mistake. It would be rather fun, don’t you 
think, Dad, to have an entertaining young 
American gentleman about ?” 

"Ump!” he grunted. "I thought you 
were so immensely satisfied with the offi- 



Jerry Junior 

which dismissed forever the young Ameri- 
can gentleman. 

“Well, Gustavo,” she added in a busi¬ 
ness-like tone, “I will tell you why we 
called. The doctor says the Signor Papa 
is getting too fat—I don’t think he’s too 
fat, do you? He seems to me just com¬ 
fortably chubby; but anyway, the doctor 
says he needs exercise, so we ’re going to 
begin climbing mountains with nails in 
our shoes like the Germans. And we ’re 
going to begin to-morrow because we’ve 
got two English people at the villa who 
adore mountains. Do you think you can 
find us a guide and some donkeys? We 
want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for 
my aunt, and another for the English lady 
and a third to carry the things—and 
maybe me, if I get tired. Then we want a 
man who will twist their tails and make 
them go; and I am very particular about 
the man. I want him to be picturesque— 
there’s no use being in Italy if you can’t 
have things picturesque, is there, Gus¬ 
tavo ?” 


53 


Jerry Junior 

“Si, signorina,” he bowed and resumed 
his attitude of strained attention. 

“He must have curly hair and black 
eyes and white teeth and a nice smile; I 
should like him to wear a red sash and 
earrings. He must be obliging and 
cheerful and deferential and speak good 
Italian—I won’t have a man who speaks 
only dialect. He must play the mandolin 
and sing Santa Lucia—I believe that ’s 
all.” 

“And I suppose since he is to act as 
guide he must know the region?” her 
father mildly suggested. 

“Oh, no, that’s immaterial; we can al¬ 
ways ask our way.” 

Mr. Wilder grunted, but offered no 
further suggestion. 

“We pay four lire a day and furnish his 
meals,” she added munificently. “And we 
shall begin with the castle on Monte 
Baldo; then when we get very proficient 
we ’ll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you 
understand?” 

“Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and 

54 


Jerry Junior 

a driver at seven o'clock to-morrow morn¬ 
ing to climb Monte Baldo?" 

“In brief, yes, but please remember the 
earrings." 

Meanwhile a commotion was going on 
behind them. The hotel omnibus had rum¬ 
bled into the court yard. A fachino had 
dragged out a leather trunk, an English 
hat box and a couple of valises and 
dumped them on the ground while he ran 
back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. 
The two under-waiters, the chamber-maid 
and the boy who cleaned boots had drifted 
into the court. It was evident that the 
American gentleman's departure was im¬ 
minent. 

The luggage was labelled and hoisted to 
the roof of the omnibus; they all drew up 
in a line with their eyes on the door; but 
still the young man did not come. Gus¬ 
tavo, over his shoulder, dispatched a 
waiter to hunt him up. The waiter re¬ 
turned breathless. The gentleman was no¬ 
where. He had searched the entire house; 

55 


Jerry Junior 

there was not a trace. Gustavo sent the 
boot-boy flying down the arbor to search 
the garden; he was beginning to feel 
anxious. What if the gentleman in a sud¬ 
den fit of melancholia had thrown himself 
into the lake? That, would indeed be an 
unfortunate affair! 

Constance reassured him, and at the 
same time she arose. It occurred to her 
suddenly that, since the young man was 
going, there was nothing to be gained by 
waiting, and he might think— She picked 
up her parasol and started for the gate, but 
Mr. Wilder hung back; he wanted to see 
the matter out. 

“Father,” said she reproachfully, “it’s 
embarrassing enough for him to fee all 
those people without our staying and 
watching him do it.” 

“I suppose it is,” he acknowledged re¬ 
gretfully, as he resumed his hat and um¬ 
brella and palm leaf fan. 

She paused for a second in the gateway. 

“Addio, Gustavo,” she called over her 
shoulder. “Don’t forget the earrings.” 

56 


Jerry Junior 

Gustavo bowed twice and turned back 
with a dazed air to direct the business in 
hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook 
his head. No, the gentleman was not to 
be found in the garden. The omnibus 
driver leaned from his seat and swore. 

Corpo di Bacco! Did he think the 
boat would wait all day for the sake of one 
passenger ? As it was, they were ten min¬ 
utes late and would have to gallop every 
step of the way. 

The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture 
was approaching a climax; when sud¬ 
denly, who should come sauntering into 
the midst of it, but the young American 
man himself! He paused to light a cigar¬ 
ette, then waved his hand aloft toward his 
leather belongings. 

“Take 'em down, Gustavo. Changed 
my mind; not going to-day—it’s too hot." 

Gustavo gasped. 

“But, signore, you have paid for your 
ticket." 

“True, Gustavo, but there is no law 
compelling me to use it. To tell the truth I 


Jerry Junior 

find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I 
had supposed. There is something satis¬ 
fying about the peace and tranquility of 
the place—one does n’t realize it till the 
moment of parting comes. Do you think 
I can obtain a room for a—well, an indefi¬ 
nite period?” 

Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver 
lire stretching into the future. With an 
all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, 
the lake, the surrounding mountains, at 
the disposal of the American. 

“You shall have what you wish, sig¬ 
nore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac—” 

“Is not crowded, and there are half a 
hundred rooms at my disposal? Very 
well, I will keep the one I have which com¬ 
mands a very attractive view of a rose-col¬ 
ored villa set in a grove of cypress trees.” 

The others had waited in a state of sus¬ 
pension, dumbfounded at what was going 
on. But as soon as the young man dipped 
into his pocket and fished out a handful of 
silver, they broke into smiles; this at least 
was intelligible. The silver was distrib¬ 
uted, the luggage was hoisted down, the 

58 


Jerry Junior 

omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard 
resumed its former quiet; just the Ameri¬ 
can gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot 
were left. 

Then suddenly a frightful suspicion 
dawned upon Gustavo—it was more than 
a suspicion; it was an absolute certainty 
which in his excitement he had overlooked. 
From where had the American gentleman 
dropped? Not the sky, assuredly, and 
there was no place else possible, un¬ 
less the door of the summer house. Yes, 
he had been in the summer house, and not 
sleeping either. An indefinable something 
about his manner informed Gustavo that 
he was privy to the entire conversation. 
Gustavo, a picture of guilty remorse, 
searched his memory for the words he had 
used. Why, oh why, had he not piled up 
adjectives? It was the opportunity of a 
lifetime and he had wantonly thrown it 
away. 

But—to his astonished relief—the young 
man appeared to be bearing no malice. 
He appeared, on the contrary, quite un¬ 
usually cheerful as he sauntered whistling, 

59 


Jerry Junior 

across the court and seated himself in the 
exact chair the signorina had occupied. 
He plunged his hand into his pocket sug¬ 
gestively—Gustave had been the only one 
omitted in the distribution of silver—and 
drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected 
five crisp five-lire notes, he placed them 
under the sugar bowl, and watched his 
companion while he blew three meditative 
rings of smoke. 

“Gustavo," he inquired, “do you sup¬ 
pose you could find me some nice, gentle, 
lady-like donkeys and a red sash and a 
pair of earrings ?" 

Gustavo's fascinated gaze had been fixed 
upon the sugar bowl and he had only half 
caught the words. 

“ Scusi, signore, I no understand." 

“Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me 
nervous to see you standing all the time. 
I can't be comfortable, you know, unless 
everybody else is comfortable. Now pay 
strict attention and see if you can grasp 
my meaning." 

Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of 

60 


Jerry Junior 

the indicated chair; he wished to humor 
the signore's mood, however incompre¬ 
hensible that mood might be. For half an 
hour he listened with strained attention 
while the gentleman talked and toyed with 
the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, 
amusement, daring, flashed in succession 
across his face; in the end he leaned for¬ 
ward with shining eyes. 

“Si, si,” he whispered after a conspira¬ 
torial glance over his shoulder, “I will do 
it all; you may trust to me." 

The young man rose, removed the sugar 
bowl, and sauntered on toward the road. 
Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed 
after him. 

“Dio mio,” he murmured as he set about 
gathering up the glasses, “zese Ameri¬ 
cans !" 

At the gate the young man paused to 
light another cigarette. 

“Addio, Gustavo," he called over his 
shoulder, “don't forget the earrings!" 


61 



CHAPTER IV 



HE table was set on the ter¬ 
race; breakfast was served 
and the company was gath¬ 
ered. Breakfast consisted of 
the usual caffe-latte, rolls and strained 
honey, and—since a journey was to the 
fore and something sustaining needed—a 
soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four 
persons present, though there should have 
been five. The two guests were an Eng¬ 
lishman and his wife, whom the chances 
of travel had brought over night to Vale- 
dolmo. 

Between them, presiding over the 
coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder’s sister, 
“Miss Hazel”—never “Miss Wilder” ex¬ 
cept to the butcher and baker. It was the 
cross of her life, she had always affirmed, 
that her name was not Mary or Jane or 
Rebecca. “Hazel” does well enough 
62 






Jerry Junior 

when one is eighteen and beautiful, but 
when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, 
it is little short of absurd. But if any¬ 
one at fifty could carry such a name 
gracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her 
fifty years sat as jauntily as Constance’s 
twenty-two. This morning she was very 
business-like in her short skirt, belted 
jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a 
feather in the side. No one would mis¬ 
take her for a cyclist or a golfer or a 
motorist or anything in the world but an 
Alpine climber; whatever Miss Hazel was 
or was not, she was always game. 

Across from Miss Hazel sat her bro¬ 
ther in knickerbockers, his Alpine stock 
at his elbow and also his fan. Since his 
domicile in Italy, Mr. Wilder’s fan had 
assumed the nature of a symbol; he could 
no more be separated from it than St. 
Sebastian from his arrows or St. Lau¬ 
rence from his gridiron. At Mr. Wilder’s 
elbow was the empty chair where Con¬ 
stance should have been—she who had 
insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, 

63 


Jerry Junior 

and had grudgingly consented to post¬ 
pone it till half-past out of deference to 
her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had 
finished his egg and hers too, before she 
appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if 
she were out the earliest of all. 

“I think you might have waited!” was 
her greeting from the doorway. 

She advanced to the table, saluted in 
military fashion, dropped a kiss on her 
father’s bald spot, and possessed herself 
of the empty chair. She too was clad in 
mountain-climbing costume, in so far as 
blouse and skirt and leather leggings 
went, but above her face there fluttered 
the fluffy white brim of a ruffled sun hat 
with a bunch of pink rosebuds set over 
one ear. 

“I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine 
hat, Aunt Hazel; I look so deliciously 
German in it, but I simply can’t afford to 
burn all the skin off my nose.” 

“You can’t make us believe that,” said 
her father. “The reason is, that Lieu¬ 
tenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni 
64 


Jerry Junior 

are going with us today, and that this hat 
is more becoming than the other.” 

“It ’s one reason,” Constance agreed 
imperturbably, “but, as I say, I don’t wish 
to burn the skin off my nose, because that 
is unbecoming too. You are ungrateful, 
Dad,” she added as she helped herself to 
honey with a liberal hand, “I invited them 
solely on your account because you like 
to hear them talk English. Have the don¬ 
keys come?” 

“The donkeys are at the back door nib¬ 
bling the buds off the rose-bushes.” 

“And the driver?” 

“Is sitting on the kitchen doorstep 
drinking coffee and smiling over the top 
of his cup at Elizabetta. There are two 
of him.” 

“Two! I only ordered one.” 

“One is the official driver and the other 
is a boy whom he has brought along to do 
the work.” 

Constance eyed her father sharply. 
There was something at once guilty and 
triumphant about his expression. 

65 


Jerry Junior 

“What is it, Dad ?” she inquired sternly. 
“I suppose he has not got a sash and ear¬ 
rings.” 

“On the contrary, he has.” 

“Really? How clever of Gustavo! I 
hope,” she added anxiously, “that he talks 
good Italian?” 

“I don’t know about his Italian, but he 
talks uncommonly good English.” 

“English!” There was reproach, dis¬ 
gust, disillusionment, in her tone. “Not 
really, father?” 

“Yes, really and truly—almost as well 
as I do. He has lived in New York and 
he speaks English like a dream—real 
English—not the Gustavo—Lieutenant di 
Ferara kind. I can understand what he 
says.” 

“How simply horrible!” 

“Very convenient, I should say.” 

“If there ’s anything I detest, it ’s an 
Americanized Italian—and here in Vale- 
dolmo of all places, where you have a 
right to demand something unique and 
romantic and picturesque and real. It ’s 
66 



Beppo and the donkeys 










Jerry Junior 

too bad of Gustavo! I shall never place 
any faith in his judgment again. You 
may talk English to the man if you like; 
I shall address him in nothing but Italian. 

As they rose from the table she sug¬ 
gested pessimistically, “Let ’s go and look 
at the donkeys—I suppose they dl be hor¬ 
rid, scraggly, knock-kneed little beasts.” 

They turned out however to be un¬ 
usually attractive, as donkeys go, and 
they were innocently engaged in nibbling, 
not rose-leaves but grass, under the tu¬ 
telage of a barefoot boy. Constance 
patted their shaggy mouse-colored noses, 
made the acquaintance of the boy, whose 
name was Beppo, and looked about for the 
driver proper. He rose and bowed as she 
approached. His appearance was even 
more violently spectacular than she had 
ordered; Gustavo had given good meas¬ 
ure. 

He wore a loose white shirt—immacu¬ 
lately white—with a red silk handkerchief 
knotted about his throat, brown corduroy 
knee-breeches, and a red cotton sash with 
69 


Jerry Junior 

the hilt of a knife conspicuously protrud¬ 
ing. His corduroy jacket was slung care¬ 
lessly across his shoulders, his hat was 
cocked jauntily, with a red heron feather 
stuck in the band; last, perfect touch of all, 
in his ears—at his ears rather (a close ex¬ 
amination revealed the thread)—two 
golden hoops flashed in the sunlight. His 
skin was dark—not too dark—just a good 
healthy out-door tan: his brows level and 
heavy, his gaze candor itself. He wore a 
tiny suggestion of a moustache which 
turned up at the corners (a suspicious ex¬ 
amination of this, might have revealed the 
fact that it was touched up with burnt 
cork) ; there was no doubt but that he was 
a handsome fellow, and his attire sug¬ 
gested that he knew it. 

Constance clasped her hands in an 
ecstasy of admiration. 

“He’s perfect!” she cried. “Where on 
earth did Gustavo find him? Did you 
ever see anything so beautiful ?” she 
appealed to the others. “He looks like a 
brigand in opera bouffe.” 

70 


Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration 





























































































































































Jerry Junior 

The donkey-man reddened visibly and 
fumbled with his hat. 

“My dear,” her father warned, “he 
understands English.” 

She continued to gaze with the open 
admiration one would bestow upon a pic¬ 
ture or a view or a blue-ribbon horse. 
The man flashed her a momentary glance 
from a pair of searching gray eyes, then 
dropped his gaze humbly to the ground. 
“Buon giorno,” he said in glib Italian. 
Constance studied him more intently. 
There was something elusively familiar 
about his expression; she was sure she 
had seen him before. 

“Buon giorno she replied in Italian. 
“You have lived in the United States?” 
“Si, signorina.” 

“What is your name?” 

“I spik Angleesh,” he observed. 

“I don't care if you do speak English; 
I prefer Italian—what is your name?” 
She repeated the question in Italian. 

“Si, signorina,” he ventured again. 
An anxious look had crept to his face and 

73 


Jerry Junior 

he hastily turned away and commenced 
carrying parcels from the kitchen. Con¬ 
stance looked after him, puzzled and sus¬ 
picious. The one insult which she could 
not brook was for an Italian to fail to 
understand her when she talked Italian. 
As he returned and knelt to tighten the 
strap of a hamper, she caught sight of the 
thread that held his earring. She looked 
a second longer, and a sudden smile of 
illumination flashed to her face. She sup¬ 
pressed it quickly and turned away. 

“He seems rather slow about under¬ 
standing,she remarked to the others, 
“but I dare say he 'll do.” 

“The poor fellow is embarrassed,” apol¬ 
ogized her father. “His name is Tony,” 
he added—even he had understood that 
much Italian. 

“Was there ever an Italian who had 
been in America whose name was not 
Tony? Why could n’t he have been An¬ 
gelico or Felice or Pasquale or something 
decently picturesque?” 

“My dear,” Miss Hazel objected, “I 

74 


Jerry Junior 

think you are hypercritical. The man is 
scarcely to blame for his name.” 

“I suppose not,” she agreed, “though I 
should have included that in my order.” 

Further discussion was precluded by 
the appearance of a station-carriage 
which turned in at the gate and stopped 
before them. Two officers descended and 
saluted. In summer uniforms of white 
linen with gold shoulder-straps, and 
shining top-boots, they rivalled the 
donkey-man in decorativeness. Con¬ 
stance received them with flattering ac¬ 
claim, while she noted from the corner of 
her eye the effect upon Tony. He had 
not counted upon this addition to the 
party, and was as scowling as she could 
have wished. While the officers were en¬ 
gaged in making their bow to the others, 
Constance casually reapproached the don¬ 
keys. Tony feigned immersion in the 
business of strapping hampers; he had no 
wish to be drawn into any Italian tete-a- 
tete. But to his relief she addressed him 
this time in English. 

75 


Jerry Junior 

“Are these donkeys used to mountain¬ 
climbing ?” 

“But yes, signorina! Sicuramente. 
Zay are ver’ strong, ver’ good. Zat donk’, 
signorina, he go all day and never one 
little stumble.” 

His English, she noted with amused ap¬ 
preciation, was an exact copy of Gus¬ 
tavo’s; he had learned his lesson well. 
But she allowed not the slightest recogni¬ 
tion of the fact to appear in her face. 

“And what are their names?” she in¬ 
quired. 

“Dis is Fidilini, signorina, and zat one 
wif ze white nose is Macaroni, and zat 
ovver is Cristoforo Colombo.” 

Elizabetta appeared in the doorway 
with two rush-covered flasks, and Tony 
hurried forward to receive them. There 
was a complaisant set to his shoulders as 
he strode off, Constance noted delight¬ 
edly; he was felicitating himself upon the 
ease with which he had fooled her. Well! 
She would give him cause before the day 
was over for other than felicitations. 
76 


Jerry Junior 

She stifled a laugh of prophetic triumph 
and sauntered over to Beppo. 

‘‘When Tony is engaged as a guide do 
you always go with him?” 

“Not always, signorina, but Carlo has 
wished me to go to-day to look after the 
donkeys.” 

“And who is Carlo?” 

“He is the guide who owns them.” 

Beppo looked momentarily guilty; the 
answer had slipped out before he thought. 

“Oh, indeed! But if Tony is a guide 
why does n’t he J 'have donkeys of his 
own ?” 

“He used to, but one unfortunately fell 
into the lake and got drowned and the 
other died of a sickness.” 

He put forth this preposterous state¬ 
ment with a glance as grave and innocent 
as that of a little cherub. 

“Is Tony a good guide?” 

“But yes, of the best!” 

There was growing anxiety in Beppo’s 
tone. He divined suspicion behind these 
persistent inquiries, and he knew that in 


Jerry Junior 

case Tony were dismissed, his own mu¬ 
nificent pay would stop. 

“Do you understand any English ?” 
she suddenly asked. 

He modestly repudiated any great 
knowledge. “A word here, a word there; 
I learn it in school.” 

“I see!” She paused for a moment and 
then inquired casually, “Have you known 
Tony long?” 

“Si, signorina.” 

“How long?” 

Beppo considered. Someone, clearly, 
must vouch for the man’s respectability. 
This was not in the lesson that had been 
taught him, but he determined to branch 
out for himself. 

“He is my father, signorina.” 

“Really! He looks young to be your 
father—have you any brothers and sisters, 
Beppo?” 

“I have four brothers, signorina, and 
five sisters.” He fell back upon the truth 
with relief. 

“Davvero!” 


78 


Jerry Junior 

The signorina smiled upon him, a smile 
of such heavenly sweetness that he in¬ 
stantly joined the already crowded ranks 
of her admirers. She drew from her 
pocket a handful of coppers and dropped 
them into his grimy little palm. 

“Here, Beppo, are some soldi for the 
brothers and sisters. I hope that you will 
be good and obedient and always tell me 
the truth.” 


79 


CHAPTER V 



FTER some delay—owing to 
Tony’s inability to balance 
the chafing-dish on Cristo- 
foro Colombo’s back—they 
filed from the gateway, an imposing cav¬ 
alcade. The ladies were on foot, loftily 
oblivious to the fact that three empty 
saddles awaited their pleasure. Con¬ 
stance, a gesticulating officer at either 
hand, was vivaciously talking Italian, 
while Tony, trudging behind, listened with 
a somber light in his eye. She now and 
then cast a casual glance over her shoul¬ 
der, and as she caught sight of his gloomy 
face the animation of her Italian re¬ 
doubled. The situation held for her 
mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possi¬ 
bilities; and though she ostensibly occu¬ 
pied herself with the officers, she by no 
means neglected the donkey-man. 

80 








Jerry Junior 

During the first few miles of the jour¬ 
ney he earned his four francs. Twice he 
reshifted the pack because Constance 
thought it insecure (it was a disgracefully 
unprofessional pack; most guides would 
have blushed at the making of it) ; once he 
retraced their path some two hundred 
yards in search of a veil she thought she 
had dropped—it turned out that she had 
had it in her pocket all of the time. He 
chased Fidilini over half the mountain¬ 
side while the others were resting, and he 
carried the chafing-dish for a couple of 
miles because it refused to adjust itself 
nicely to the pack. The morning ended 
by his being left behind with a balking 
donkey, while the others completed the 
last ascent that led to their halting-place 
for lunch. 

It was a small plateau shaded by oak 
trees with a broad view below them, and 
a mountain stream foaming down from 
the rocks above. It was owing to Beppo's 
knowledge of the mountain paths rather 
than Tony's which had guided them to 
81 


Jerry Junior 

this agreeable spot; though no one in the 
party except Constance appeared to have 
noted the fact. Tony arrived some ten 
minutes after the others, hot but vic¬ 
torious, driving Cristoforo Colombo be¬ 
fore him. Constance welcomed his return 
with an off-hand nod and set him about 
preparing lunch. He and Beppo served it 
and repacked the hampers, entirely ig¬ 
nored by the others of the party. Poor 
Tony was beginning to realize that a 
donkey-man lives on a desert island in so 
far as any companionship goes. But his 
moment was coming. As they were about 
to start on, Constance spied high above 
their heads where the stream burst from 
the rocks, a clump of starry white blos¬ 
soms. 

"Edelweiss!” she cried. "Oh, I must 
have it—it’s the first I ever saw growing; 
I had n't supposed we were high enough.” 
She glanced at the officers. 

The ascent was not dangerous, but it 
was undeniably muddy, and they both 
wore white; with very good cause they 
82 


Jerry Junior 

hesitated. And while they hesitated, the 
opportunity was lost. Tony sprang for¬ 
ward, scrambled up the precipice hand 
over hand, swung out across the stream 
by the aid of an overhanging branch and 
secured the flowers. It was very grace¬ 
fully and easily done, and a burst of ap¬ 
plause greeted his descent. He divided 
his flowers into two equal parts, and 
sweeping off his hat, presented them with 
a bow, not to Constance, but to the offi¬ 
cers, who somewhat sulkily passed them 
on. She received them with a smile; for 
an instant her eyes met Tony’s, and he 
fell back, rewarded. 

The captain and lieutenant for the first 
time regarded the donkey-man, and they 
regarded him narrowly, red sash, ear¬ 
rings, stiletto and all. Constance caught 
the look and laughed. 

“Is n’t he picturesque?” she inquired in 
Italian. “The head-waiter at the Hotel 
du Lac found him for me. He has been 
in the United States and speaks English, 
which is a great convenience.” 

83 


Jerry Junior 

The two said nothing, but they looked 
at each other and shrugged. 

The donkeys were requisitioned for the 
rest of the journey; while Tony led Miss 
Hazel's mount, he could watch Constance 
ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at 
each side of her saddle. She appeared to 
divide her favors with nice discrimina¬ 
tion; it was not her fault if the two were 
jealous of one another. Tony could draw 
from that obvious fact what consolation 
there was in it. 

The ruined fortress, their destination, 
was now exactly above their heads. The 
last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of 
the mountain, and then doubled upward in 
a series of serpentine coils. Below them 
the whole of Lake Garda was spread like 
a map. Mr. Wilder and the Englishman, 
having paused at the edge of the declivity, 
were endeavoring to trace the boundary 
line of Austria, and they called upon the 
officers for help. The two relinquished 
their post at Constance's side, while the 
donkeys kept on past them up the hill. 

84 



“ Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching 
at each side of her saddle ” 






Jerry Junior 

The winding path was both stony and 
steep, and, from a donkey’s standpoint, 
thoroughly objectionable. Fidilini was 
well in the lead, trotting sedately, when 
suddenly without the slightest warning, 
he chose to revolt. Whether Constance 
pulled the wrong rein, or whether, as she 
affirmed, it was merely his natural bad¬ 
ness, in any case, he suddenly veered from 
the path and took a cross cut down the 
rocky slope below them. Donkeys are 
fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwise 
the two would have plunged together 
down the sheer face of the mountain. As 
it was it looked ghastly enough to the four 
men below; they shouted to Constance to 
stick on, and commenced scrambling up 
the slope with absolutely no hope of reach¬ 
ing her. 

It was Tony’s chance a second time to 
show his agility—and this time to some 
purpose. He was a dozen yards behind 
and much lower down, which gave him a 
start. Leaping forward, he dropped over 
the precipice, a fall of ten feet, to a narrow 

87 


Jerry Junior 

ledge below. Running toward them at an 
angle, he succeeded in cutting off their 
flight. Before the frightened donkey 
could swerve, Tony had seized him—by 
the tail—and had braced himself against a 
bowlder. It was not a dignified rescue, 
but at least it was effective; Fidilini came 
to a halt. Constance, not expecting the 
sudden jolt, toppled over sidewise, and 
Tony, being equally unprepared to receive 
her, the two went down together rolling 
over and over on the grassy slope. 

“My dear, are you hurt?” 

Mr. Wilder, quite pale with anxiety, 
came scrambling to her side. Constance 
sat up and laughed hysterically, while she 
examined a bleeding elbow. 

“N—no, not dangerously—but I think 
perhaps Tony is.” 

Tony however was at least able to run, 
as he was again on his feet and after the 
donkey. Captain Coroloni and her father 
helped Constance to her feet while Lieu¬ 
tenant di Ferara recovered a side-comb 
and the white sun hat. They all climbed 
88 



Jerry Junior 

down together to the path below, none the 
worse for the averted tragedy. Tony re¬ 
joined them somewhat short of breath, 
but leading a humbled Fidilini. Con¬ 
stance, beyond a brief glance, said noth¬ 
ing; but her father, to the poor man's 
intense embarrassment, shook him warmly 
by the hand with the repeated assurance 
that his bravery should not go unre¬ 
warded. 

They completed their journey on foot; 
Tony following behind, quite conscious 
that, if he had played the part of hero, he 
had done it with a lamentable lack of 
grace. 


89 


CHAPTER VI 



ONY was stretched on the 
parapet that bordered the 
stone-paved platform of the 
fortress. Above him the 
crumbling tower rose many feet higher, 
below him a marvelous view stretched in¬ 
vitingly; but Tony had eyes neither for 
medieval architecture nor picturesque 
scenery. He lay with his coat doubled un¬ 
der his head for a pillow, in a frowning 
contemplation of the cracked stone pave¬ 
ment. 

The four other men, after an hour or so 
of easy lounging under the pines at the 
base of the tower, had organized a fresh 
expedition to the summit a mile farther 
up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had de¬ 
veloped into an enthusiastic mountain- 
climber—regret might come with the 
morrow, but as yet ambition still burned 
90 








Jerry Junior 

high. The remainder of the party were 
less energetic. The three ladies were 
resting on rugs spread under the pines; 
Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat 
over his face, and the donkeys, securely 
tethered (Tony had attended to that) 
were innocently nibbling mountain herbs. 

There was no obvious reason why, as 
he lighted a cigarette and stretched him¬ 
self on the parapet, Tony should not have 
been the most self-satisfied guide in the 
world. He had not only completed the 
expedition in safety, but had saved the 
heroine’s life by the way; and even if the 
heroine did not appear as thankful as she 
might, still, her father had shown due 
gratitude, and, what was to the point, had 
promised a reward. That should have 
been enough for any reasonable donkey- 
driver. 

But it was distinctly not enough for 
Tony. He was in a fine temper as he lay 
on the parapet and scowled at the pave¬ 
ment. Nothing was turning out as he had 
planned. He had not counted on the offi- 
91 


Jerry Junior 

cers or her predilection for Italian. He 
had not counted on chasing donkeys in 
person while she stood and looked on— 
Beppo was to have attended to that. He 
had not counted on anything quite so ab¬ 
surd as his heroic capture of Fidilini. 
Since she must let the donkey run away 
with her, why, in the name of all that was 
romantic—could it not have occurred by 
moonlight? Why, when he caught the 
beast, could it not have been by the bridle 
instead of the tail? And above all, why 
could she not have fallen into his arms, 
instead of on top of him ? 

The stage scenery was set for romance, 
but from the moment the curtain rose the 
play had persisted in being farce. How¬ 
ever, farce or romance, it was all one to 
him so long as he could play leading- 
man; what he objected to was the minor 
part. The fact was clear that sash and 
earrings could never compete with uni¬ 
form and sword and the Italian language. 
His mind was made up; he would with¬ 
draw tonight before he was found out, 
92 


Jerry Junior 

and leave Valedolmo tomorrow morning 
by the early boat. Miss Constance Wilder 
should never have the satisfaction of 
knowing the truth. 

He was engaged in framing a digni¬ 
fied speech to Mr. Wilder—thanking him 
for his generosity, but declining to accept 
a reward for what had been merely a mat¬ 
ter of duty—when his reflections were cut 
short by the sound of footsteps on the 
stairs. They were by no means noiseless 
footsteps; there were good strong nails 
all over the bottom of Constance’s shoes. 
The next moment she appeared in the 
doorway. Her eyes were centered on the 
view; she looked entirely over Tony. It 
was not until he rose to his feet that she 
realized his presence with a start. 

“Dear me, is that you, Tony? You 
frightened me! Don’t get up; I know you 
must be tired.” This with a sweetly 
solicitous smile. 

Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; 
it was the first time since morning that 
she had condescended to consider his 


93 


Jerry Junior 

feelings. She sauntered over to the oppo¬ 
site side and stood with her back to him 
examining the view. Tony turned his 
back and affected to be engaged with the 
view in the other direction; he too could 
play at indifference. 

Constance finished with her view first, 
and crossing over, she seated herself in 
the deep embrasure of a window close be¬ 
side Tony’s parapet. He rose again at 
her approach, but there was no eagerness 
in the motion; it was merely the necessary 
deference of a donkey-driver toward his 
employer. 

“Oh, sit down,” she insisted, “I want 
to talk to you.” 

He opened his eyes with a show of sur¬ 
prise; his hurt feelings insisted that all 
the advances should be on her part. Con¬ 
stance seemed in no hurry to begin; she 
removed her hat, pushed back her hair, 
and sat playing with the bunch of edel¬ 
weiss which was stuck in among the roses 
—flattening the petals, rearranging the 
flowers with careful fingers; a touch, it 

94 



“ She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a 
window close beside Tony’s parapet ” 





Jerry Junior 

seemed to Tony’s suddenly clamoring 
senses, that was almost a caress. Then 
she looked up quickly and caught his gaze. 
She leaned forward with a laugh. 

“Tony,” she said, “do you spik any 
language besides Angleesh?” 

He triumphantly concealed all sign of 
emotion. 

“Si, signorina, I spik my own lan¬ 
guage.” 

“Would you mind my asking what that 
language is?” 

He indulged in a moment’s deliberation. 
Italian was clearly out of the question, 
and French she doubtless knew better 
than he—he deplored this polyglot educa¬ 
tion girls were receiving nowadays. 

He had it! He would be Hungarian. 
His sole fellow guest in the hotel at Ve¬ 
rona the week before had been a Hun¬ 
garian nobleman, who had informed him 
that the Magyar language was one of the 
most difficult on the face of the globe. 
There was at least little likelihood that 
she was acquainted with that. 


Jerry Junior 

“My own language, signorina, is 
Magyar.” 

“Magyar?” She was clearly taken by 
surprise. 

“Si, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was 
born in Budapest.” He met her wide- 
opened eyes with a look of innocent can¬ 
dor. 

“Really!” She beamed upon him de¬ 
lightedly; he was playing up even better 
than she had hoped. “But if you are 
Hungarian, what are you doing here in 
Italy, and how does it happen that your 
name is Antonio?” 

“My mover was Italian. She name me 
Antonio after ze blessed Saint Anthony of 
Padua. If you lose anysing, signorina, 
and you say a prayer to Saint Anthony 
every day for nine days, on ze morning 
of ze tenth you will find it again.” 

“That is very interesting,” she said 
politely. “How do you come to know 
English so well, Tony?” 

“We go live in Amerik’ when I lid boy.” 

“And you never learned Italian? I 

98 


Jerry Junior 

should think your mother would have 
taught it to you.” 

He imitated Beppo’s gesture. 

"A word here, a word there. We spik 
Magyar at home.” 

"Talk a little Magyar, Tony. I should 
like to hear it.” 

"What shall I say, signorina ?” 

"Oh, say anything you please.” 

He affected to hesitate while he re¬ 
hearsed the scraps of language at his com¬ 
mand. Latin—French—German—none of 
them any good—but, thank goodness, he 
had elected Anglo-Saxon in college; and 
thank goodness again the professor had 
made them learn passages by heart. He 
glanced up with an air of flattered diffi¬ 
dence and rendered, in a conversational 
inflection, an excerpt from the Anglo- 
Saxon Bible. 

“Ealle gesceafta, heofonas and englas, 
sunnan and monan, steorran and eorthan, 
he gesceop and geworhte on six da gum.” 

"It is a very beautiful language. Say 
some more.” 


99 


Jerry Junior 

He replied with glib promptness, with 
a passage from Beowulf. 

“Hie dygel lond warigeath, wulf - 
hleothu, windige naessas.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Tony looked embarrassed. 

“I don't believe you know!” 

“It means— scusi, signorina, I no like 
to say.” 

“You don't know.” 

“It means—you make me say, signo¬ 
rina,— T sink you ver' beautiful like ze 
angels in Paradise.' ” 

“Indeed! A donkey-driver, Tony, 
should not say anything like that.” 

“But it is true.” 

“The more reason you should not 
say it.” 

“You asked me, signorina; I could not 
tell you a lie.” 

The signorina smiled slightly and 
looked away at the view; Tony seized the 
opportunity to look sidewise at her. She 
turned back and caught him; he dropped 
his eyes humbly to the floor. 


IOO 


Jerry Junior 

“Does Beppo speak Magyar?” she in¬ 
quired. 

“Beppo?” There was wonder in his 
tone at the turn her questions were tak¬ 
ing. “I sink not, signorina.” 

“That must be very inconvenient. Why 
don't you teach it to him?” 

“Si, signorina.” He was plainly non¬ 
plussed. 

“Yes, he says that you are his father 
and I should think—” 

“His father?” Tony appeared momen¬ 
tarily startled; then he laughed. “He did 
not mean his real father; he mean—how 
you say—his god-father. I give to him 
his name when he get christened.” 

“Oh, I see!” 

Her next question was also a sur¬ 
prise. 

“Tony,” she inquired with startling 
suddenness, “why do you wear earrings?” 

He reddened slightly. 

“Because—because—der's a girl I like 
ver' moch, signorina; she sink earrings 
look nice. I wear zem for her.” 


IOI 


Jerry Junior 

“Oh!—But why do you fasten them on 
with thread ?” 

“Because I no wear zem always. In 
Italia, yes; in Amerik’ no. When I marry 
dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I 
please, now I haf to do as she please.” 

“H’m—” said Constance, ruminatingly. 
“Where does this girl live, Tony?” 

“In Valedolmo, signorina.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“She look like—” His eyes searched 
the landscape and came back to her face. 
“Oh, ver’ beautiful, signorina. She have 
hair brown and gold, and eyes—yes, eyes! 
Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and 
sometimes gray. Her laugh, it sounds 
like the song of a nightingale.” He 
clasped his hands and rolled his eyes in a 
fine imitation of Gustavo. “She is beauti¬ 
ful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in 
Paradise!” 

“There seem to be a good many people 
beautiful as the angels in Paradise.” 

“She is most beautiful of all.” 

“What is her name?” 


102 


Jerry Junior 

“Costantina.” He said it softly, his eyes 
on her face. 

“Ah,” Constance rose and turned away 
with a shrug. Her manner suggested 
that he had gone too far. 

“She wash clothes at ze Hotel du Lac,” 
he called after her. 

Constance paused and glanced over her 
shoulder with a laugh. 

“Tony,” she said, “the quality which I 
admire most in a donkey-driver, besides 
truthfulness and picturesqueness, is imagi¬ 
nation.” 


103 


CHAPTER VII 



N the homeward journey Tony 
again trudged behind while 
the officers held their post 
at Constance’s side. But 
Tony’s spirits were still singing from the 
little encounter on the castle platform, and 
in spite of the animated Italian which 
floated back, he was determined to look at 
the sunny side of the adventure. It was 
Mr. Wilder who unconsciously supplied 
him with a second opportunity for con¬ 
versation. He and the Englishman, being 
deep in a discussion involving statistics of 
the Italian army budget, called on the two 
officers to set them straight. Tony, at 
their order, took his place beside the 
saddle; Constance was not to be aban¬ 
doned again to Fidilini’s caprice. Miss 
Hazel and the Englishwoman were am- 
104 







Jerry Junior 

bling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a 
fashion as if that were their usual mode of 
travel. Their donkeys were of a sedater 
turn of mind than Fidilini—a fact for 
which Tony offered thanks. 

They were by this time well over the 
worst part of the mountain and the brief 
Italian twilight was already fading. 
Tony, with a sharp eye on the path ahead 
and a ready hand for the bridle, was at¬ 
tending strictly to the duties of a well- 
trained donkey-man. It was Constance 
again who opened the conversation. 

“Ah, Tony?” 

“Si, signorina?” 

“Did you ever read any Angleesh books 
—or do you do most of your reading in 
Magyar ?” 

“I haf read one, two, Angleesh books/ 

“Did you ever read—er—The Light¬ 
ning Conductor' for example?” 

“No, signorina; I haf never read heem.” 

“I think it would interest you. It ’s 
about a man who pretends he 's a chauf¬ 
feur in order to—to— There are any 

105 


Jerry Junior 

number of books with the same motive; 
'She Stoops to Conquer/ 'Two Gentlemen 
of Verona/ 'Lalla Rookh/ 'Monsieur 
Beaucaire’—Oh, dozens of them! It ’s an 
old plot; it does n’t require the slightest 
originality to think of it.” 

“Si, signorina? Sank you.” Tony’s 
tone was exactly like Gustavo’s when he 
has failed to get the point, but feels that 
a comment is necessary. 

Constance laughed and allowed a 
silence to follow, while Tony redirected 
his attention to Fidilini’s movements. His 
"Yip! Yip!” was an exact imitation, 
though in a deeper guttural, of Beppo’s 
cries before them. It would have taken a 
close observer to suspect that he had not 
been bred to the calling. 

"You have not always been a donkey- 
driver?” she inquired after an interval of 
amused scrutiny. 

"Not always, signorina.” 

"What did you do in New York?” 

"I play hand-organ, signorina.” 

Tony removed his hand from the bridle 
106 


Jerry Junior 

and ground “Yankee Doodle” from an 
imaginary instrument. 

“I make musica, signorina, wif—wif— 
how you say, monk, monka? His name 
Vittorio Emanuele. Ver' nice monk— 
simpatica affezionata.” 

“You Ve never been an actor?” 

“An actor? No, signorina.” 

“You should try it; I fancy you might 
have some talent in that direction.” 

“Si, signorina. Sank you.” 

She let the conversation drop, and 
Tony, after an interval of silence, fell to 
humming Santa Lucia in a very present¬ 
able baritone. The tune, Constance noted, 
was true enough, but the words were far 
astray. 

“That ’s a very pretty song, Tony, but 
you don't appear to know it.” 

“I no understand Italian, signorina. I 
just learn ze tune because Costantina 
like it.” 

“You do everything that Costantina 
wishes?” 

“Everysing! But if you could see her 
107 


Jerry Junior 

you would not wonder. She has hair 
brown and gold, and her eyes, signorina, 
are sometimes gray and sometimes black, 
and her laugh sounds like—” 

“Oh, yes, I know; you told me all that 
before.” 

“When she goes out to work in ze morn¬ 
ing, signorina, wif the sunlight shining on 
her hair, and a smile on her lips, and a 
basket of clothes on her head— Ah, zen 
she is beautiful!” 

“When are you going to be married ?” 

“I do not know, signorina. I have not 
asked her yet.” 

“Then how do you know she wishes to 
marry you?” 

“I do not know; I just hope.” 

He rolled his eyes toward the moon 
which was rising above the mountains on 
the other side of the lake, and with a deep 
sigh he fell back into Santa Lucia. 

Constance leaned forward and scanned 
his face. 

“Tony! Tell me your name.” There 
was an undertone of meaning, a note of 
persuasion in her voice. 

108 


Jerry Junior 

“Antonio, signorina.” 

She shook her head with a show of im¬ 
patience. 

“Your real name—your last name/’ 

“Yamhankeesh.” 

“Oh! she laughed. “Antonio Yam- 
hankeesh does n't seem to me a very mu¬ 
sical combination; I don’t think I ever 
heard anything like it before.” 

“It suits me, signorina.” His tone car¬ 
ried a suggestion of wounded dignity. 
“Yamhankeesh has a ver’ beautiful mean¬ 
ing in my language—‘He who dares not, 
wins not’.” 

“And that is your motto?” 

“Si, signorina.” 

“A very dangerous motto, Tony; it will 
some day get you into trouble.” 

They had reached the base of the moun¬ 
tain and their path now broadened into 
the semblance of a road which wound 
through the fields, between fragrant 
hedgerows, under towering chestnut trees. 
All about them was the fragrance of the 
dewy, flower-scented summer night, the 
flash of fireflies, the chirp of crickets, 
109 


Jerry Junior 

occasionally the note of a nightingale. 
Before them out of a cluster of cypresses, 
rose the square graceful outline of the 
village campanile. 

Constance looked about with a pleased, 
contented sigh. 

“Is n’t Italy beautiful, Tony?” 

“Yes, signorina, but I like America 
better.” 

“We have no cypresses and ruins and 
nightingales in America, Tony. We have 
a moon sometimes, but not that moon.” 

They passed from the moonlight into 
the shade of some overhanging chestnut 
trees. Fidilini stumbled suddenly over a 
break in the path and Tony pulled him up 
sharply. His hand on the bridle rested 
for an instant over hers. 

“Italy is beautiful—to make love in,” he 
whispered. 

She drew her hand away abruptly, and 
they passed out into the moonlight again. 
Ahead of them where the road branched 
into the highway, the others were wait¬ 
ing for Constance to catch up, the two offi- 


Jerry Junior 

cers looking back with an eager air of 
expectation. Tony glanced ahead and 
added with a quick frown. 

“But perhaps I do not need to tell you 
that—youjnay know it already ?” 

“You are impertinent, Tony.” 

She pulled the donkey into a trot that 
fc .left him behind. 

The highway was broad and they pro¬ 
ceeded in a group, the conversation gen¬ 
eral and in English, Tony quite naturally 
having no part in it. But at the corners 
where the road to the village and the road 
to the villa separated, Fidilini obligingly 
turned stubborn again. His mind bent 
upon rest and supper, he insisted upon go¬ 
ing to the village; the harder Constance 
pulled on the left rein, the more fixed 
was his determination to turn to the 
right. 

“Help! I ’m being run away with 
again,” she called over her shoulder as the 
donkey’s pace quickened into a trot. 

Tony, awakening to his duty, started in 
pursuit, while the others laughingly 


hi 


Jerry Junior 

shouted directions. He did not run as 
determinedly as he might and they had 
covered considerable ground before he 
overtook them. He turned Fidilini’s head 
and they started back—at a walk. 

“Signorina,” said Tony, “may I ask a 
question, a little impertinent ?” 

“No, certainly not.” 

Silence. 

“Ah, Tony?” she asked presently. 

“Si, signorina?” 

“What is it you want to ask?” 

“Are you going to marry that Italian 
lieutenant—or perhaps the captain?” 

“That is impertinent.” 

“Are you?” 

“You forget yourself, Tony. It is not 
your place to ask such a question.” 

“Si, signorina; it is my place. If it is 
true I cannot be your donkey-man any 
longer.” 

“No, it is not true, but that is no con¬ 
cern of yours.” 

“Are you going on another trip Friday 
—to Monte Maggiore?” 

“Yes.” 


112 


Jerry Junior 

“May I come with you?” 

His tone implied more than his words. 
She hesitated a moment, then shrugged 
indifferently. 

“Just as you please, Tony. If you don’t 
wish to work for us any more I dare say 
we can find another man.” 

“It is as you please, signorina. If you 
wish it, I come, if you do not wish it, 
I go.” 

She made no answer. They joined the 
others and the party proceeded to the villa 
gates. 

Lieutenant di Ferara helped Constance 
dismount, while Captain Coroloni, with 
none too good a grace, held the donkey. 
A careful observer would have fancied 
that the lieutenant was ahead, and that 
both he and the captain knew it. Tony 
untied the bundles, dumped them on the 
kitchen floor, and waited respectfully, hat 
in hand, while Mr. Wilder searched his 
pockets for change. He counted out four 
lire and added a note. Tony pocketed the 
lire and returned the note, while Mr. 
Wilder stared his astonishment. 


ii3 


Jerry Junior 

“Good-bye, Tony,” Constance smiled as 
he turned away. 

“Good-bye, signorina.” There was a 
note of finality in his voice. 

“Well!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. “That 
is the first—” “Italian” he started to say, 
but he caught the word before it was out 
-donkey-driver I ever saw refuse 
money.” 

Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoul¬ 
ders. 

“Macke! The fellow is too honest; you 
do well to watch him.” There was a 
world of disgust in his tone. 

Constance glanced after the retreating 
figure and laughed. 

“Tony!” she called. 

He kept on; she raised her voice. 

“Mr. Yamhankeesh.” 

He paused. 

“You call, signorina?” 

“Be sure and be here by half past six 
on Friday morning; we must start early.” 

“Sank you, signorina. Good-night.” 

“Good-night, Tony.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


HE Hotel du Lac may be ap¬ 
proached in two ways. The 
ordinary, obvious way, which 
incoming tourists of neces¬ 
sity choose, is by the highroad and 
the gate. But the romantic way is by 
water. One sees only the garden then and 
the garden is the distinguished feature of 
the place; it was planned long before the 
hotel was built to adorn a marquis's pleas¬ 
ure house. There are grottos, arbors, 
fountains, a winding stream; and, stretch¬ 
ing the length of the water front, a deep 
cool grove of interlaced plane trees. At 
the end of the grove, half a dozen broad 
stone steps dip down to a tiny harbor 
which is carpeted on the surface with lily 
pads. The steps are worn by the lapping 
waves of fifty years, and nre grown over 
with slippery, slimy water weeds. 

US 








Jerry Junior 

The world was just stirring from its 
afternoon siesta, when the Farfalla 
dropped her yellow sails and floated into 
the shady little harbor. Giuseppe prodded 
and pushed along the fern-grown banks 
until the keel jolted against the water 
steps. He sprang ashore and steadied the 
boat while Constance alighted. She 
slipped on the mossy step—almost went 
under—and righted herself with a laugh 
that rang gaily through the grove. 

She came up the steps still smiling, 
shook out her fluffy pink skirts, straight¬ 
ened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced 
reconnoiteringly about the grove. One 
might reasonably expect, attacking the 
hotel as it were from the flank, to capture 
unawares any stray guest. But aside 
from a chaffinch or so and a brown-and- 
white spotted calf tied to a tree, the grove 
was empty—blatantly empty. There was 
a shade of disappointment in Constance’s 
glance. One naturally does not like to 
waste one’s best embroidered gown on a 
spotted calf. 

116 


Jerry Junior 

Then her eye suddenly brightened as it 
lighted on a vivid splash of yellow under 
a tree. She crossed over and picked it up 
—a paper covered French novel; the title 
was Bijou, the author was Gyp. She 
turned to the first page. Any reasonably 
careful person might be expected to write 
his name in the front of a book—particu¬ 
larly a French book—before abandoning 
it to the mercies of a foreign hotel. But 
the several fly leaves were immaculately 
innocent of all sign of ownership. 

So intent was she upon this examina¬ 
tion, that she did not hear footsteps ap¬ 
proaching down the long arbor that led 
from the house; so intent was the young 
man upon a frowning scrutiny of the path 
before him, that he did not see Constance 
until he had passed from the arbor into the 
grove. Then simultaneously they raised 
their heads and looked at each other. For 
a startled second they stared—rather 
guiltily—both with the air of having been 
caught. Constance recovered her poise 
first; she nodded—a nod which contained 

ii 7 


Jerry Junior 

not the slightest hint of recognition—and 
laughed. 

“Oh !” she said. “I suppose this is your 
book? And I am afraid you have caught 
me red-handed. You must excuse me for 
looking at it, but usually at this season 
only German Alpine-climbers stop at the 
Hotel du Lac, and I was surprised you 
know to find that German Alpine-climbers 
did anything so frivolous as reading Gyp.” 

The man bowed with a gesture which 
made her free of the book, but he con¬ 
tinued his silence. Constance glanced at 
him again, and this time she allowed a 
flash of recognition to appear in her face. 

“Oh!” she re-exclaimed with a note of 
interested politeness, “you are the young 
man who stumbled into Villa Rosa last 
Monday looking for the garden of the 
prince?” 

He bowed a second time, an answering 
flash appearing in his face. 

“And you are the young woman who 
was sitting on the wall beside a row of— 
of-” 


118 


The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book 




i 





















Jerry Junior 

“Stockings ?” She nodded. “I trust 
you found the prince’s garden without 
difficulty?” 

“Yes, thank you. Your directions were 
very explicit.” 

A slight pause followed, the young man 
waiting deferentially for her to take the 
lead. 

“You find Valedolmo interesting?” she 
inquired. 

“Interesting!” His tone was enthusias¬ 
tic. “Aside from the prince’s garden 
which contains a cedar of Lebanon and an 
India rubber plant from South America, 
there is the Luini in the chapel of San 
Bartolomeo, and the statue of Garibaldi 
in the piazza. And then—” he waved his 
hand toward the lake, “there is always the 
view.” 

“Yes,” she agreed, “one can always 
look at the view.” 

Her eyes wandered to the lake, and 
across the lake to Monte Maggiore with 
clouds drifting about its peak. And while 
she obligingly studied the mountain, he 


121 


Jerry Junior 

studied the effect of the pink gown and 
the rose-bud hat. She turned back sud¬ 
denly and caught him; it was a disconcert¬ 
ing habit of Constance’s. He politely 
looked away and she—with frank interest 
—studied him. He was bareheaded and 
dressed in white flannels; they were very 
becoming, she noted critically, and yet— 
they needed just a touch of color; a red 
sash, for example, and earrings. 

“The guests of the Hotel du Lac,” she 
remarked, “have a beautiful garden of 
their own. Just the mere pleasure of 
strolling about in it ought to keep them 
contented with Valedolmo.” 

“Not necessarily,” he objected. “Think 
of the garden of Eden—the most beautiful 
garden there has ever been if report 
speaks true—and yet the mere pleasure of 
strolling about did n’t keep Adam con¬ 
tented. One gets lonely you know.” 

“Are you the only guest?” 

“Oh, no, there are four of us, but we ’re 
not very companionable; there ’s such a 
discrepancy in languages.” 


122 


Jerry Junior 

“And you don't speak Italian ?" 

He shook his head. 

“Only English and—" he glanced at the 
book in her hand—“French indifferently 
well." 

“I saw someone the other day who 
spoke Magyar—that is a beautiful lan¬ 
guage." 

“Yes?" he returned with polite indiffer¬ 
ence. “I don’t remember ever to have 
heard it." 

She laughed and glanced about. Her 
eyes lighted on the arbor hung with grape¬ 
vines and wistaria, where, far at the other 
end, Gustavo’s figure was visible lounging 
in the yellow stucco doorway. The sight 
appeared to recall an errand to her mind. 
She glanced down at a pink wicker-basket 
which hung on her arm, and gathered 
up her skirts with a movement of depar¬ 
ture. 

The young man hastily picked up the 
conversation. 

“It is a jolly old garden," he affirmed. 
“And there’s something pathetic about its 
123 


Jerry Junior 

appearing on souvenir post-cards as a 
mere adjunct to a blue and yellow hotel.” 

She nodded sympathetically. 

“Built for romance and abandoned to 
tourists—German tourists at that!” 

“Oh, not entirely—we ’ve a Russian 
countess just now.” 

“A Russian countess ?” Constance 
turned toward him with an air of re¬ 
awakened interest. “Is she as young and 
beautiful and fascinating and wicked as 
they always are in novels?” 

“Oh, dear no! Seventy, if she ’s a day. 
A nice grandmotherly old soul who 
smokes cigarettes.” 

“Ah!” Constance smiled; there was 
even a trace of relief in her manner as she 
nodded to the young man and turned 
away. His face reflected his disappoint¬ 
ment ; he plainly wished to detain her, but 
could think of no expedient. The spotted 
calf came to his rescue. The calf had been 
watching them from the first, very much 
interested in the visitor; and now as she 
approached his tree, he stretched out his 
124 


Jerry junior 

neck as far as the tether permitted and 
sniffed insistently. She paused and 
patted him on the head. The calf acknowl¬ 
edged the caress with a grateful moo; 
there was a plaintive light in his liquid 
eyes. 

“Poor thing—he's lonely!” She turned 
to the young man and spoke with an ac¬ 
cent of reproach. “The four guests of the 
Hotel du Lac don't show him enough 
attention." 

The young man shrugged. 

“We 're tired of calves. It 's only a 
matter of a day or so before he '11 be 
breaded and fried and served Milanese 
fashion with a sauce of tomato and 
garlic." 

Constance shook her head sympatheti¬ 
cally; though whether her sympathy was 
for the calf or the partakers of table 
d'hote, was not quite clear. 

“I know," she agreed. “I 've been a 
guest at the Hotel du Lac myself—it 's a 
tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!" 

She nodded and turned; it was evident 

125 


Jerry Junior 

this time that she was really going. He 
took a hasty step forward. 

“Oh, I say, please don’t go! Stay and 
talk to me—just a little while. That calf 
is n’t half so lonely as I am.” 

“I should like to, but really I must n’t. 
Elizabetta is waiting for me to bring her 
some eggs. We are planning a trip up the 
Maggiore tomorrow, and we have to have 
a cake to take with us. Elizabetta made 
one this morning but she forgot to put in 
the baking powder. Italian cooks are not 
used to making cakes; they are much 
better at—” her eyes fell on the calf— 
“veal and such things.” 

He folded his arms with an air of des¬ 
peration. 

“I ’m an American—one of your own 
countrymen; if you had a grain of charity 
in your nature you would let the cake 
go.” 

She shook her head relentlessly. 

“Five days at Valedolmo! You would 
not believe the straits I’ve been driven to 
in search of amusement.” 

126 


Jerry Junior 

; ‘Yes?” There was a touch of curiosity 
in her tone. “What for example ?” 

“I am teaching Gustavo how to play 
tennis.” 

“Oh!” she said. “How does he do?” 

“Broken three windows and a flower 
pot and lost four balls.” 

She laughed and turned away; and then 
as an idea occurred to her, she turned back 
and fixed her eyes sympathetically on his 
face. 

“I suppose Valedolmo is stupid for a 
man; but why don’t you try mountain 
climbing? Everybody finds that divert¬ 
ing. There ’s a guide here who speaks 
English—really comprehensible English. 
He ’s engaged for tomorrow, but after 
that I dare say he ’ll be free. Gustavo can 
tell you about him.” 

She nodded and smiled and turned 
down the arbor. 

The young man stood where she left 
him, with folded arms, watching her pink 
gown as it receded down the long sun- 
flecked alley hung with purple and green. 

127 


Jerry Junior 

He waited until it had been swallowed up 
in the yellow doorway; then he fetched a 
deep breath and strolled to the water-wall. 
After a few moments' prophetic contem¬ 
plation of the mountain across the lake, he 
threw back his head with a quick amused 
laugh, and got out a cigarette and 
lighted it. 


128 


CHAPTER IX 


S Constance emerged at the 
other end of the arbor, Gus¬ 
tavo, who had been nodding 
on the bench beside the door, 
his feet, consternation in his 

“Signorina!” he stammered. “You 
come from ze garden?” 

She nodded in her usual off-hand man¬ 
ner and handed him the basket. 

“Eggs, Gustavo—two dozen if you can 
spare them. I am sorry always to be 
wanting so many, but—” she sighed, 
“eggs are so breakable!” 

Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in 
silent thanksgiving. She had not, it was 
evident, run across the American, and 
the cat was still safely in the bag; but 
how much longer it could be kept there, 
the saints alone knew. He was feeling- 
129 



sprang to 
attitude. 







Jerry Junior 

very properly—guilty in regard to this 
latest escapade; but what can a defence¬ 
less waiter do in the hands of an impetu¬ 
ous young American whose pockets are 
stuffed with silver lire and five-franc 
notes ? 

“Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. 
Subitissimo!” He took the basket and 
hurried to the kitchen. 

Constance occupied the interval with 
the polyglot parrot of the courtyard. 
The parrot, since she had last conversed 
with him, had acquired several new ex¬ 
pressions in the English tongue. As 
Gustavo reappeared with the eggs, she 
confronted him sternly. 

“Have you been teaching this bird Eng¬ 
lish? I am surprised!” 

“No, signorina. It was—it was—” 
Gustavo mopped his brow. “He jus’ pick 
it up.” 

“I ’m sorry that the Hotel du Lac has 
guests that use such language; it *s very 
shocking.” 

“Si, signorina.” 


130 




Jerry Junior 

“By the way, Gustavo, how does it hap¬ 
pen that that young American man who 
left last week is still here?” 

Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs. 

“I just saw him in the garden with a 
book—I am sure it was the same young 
man. What is he doing all this time in 
Valedolmo?” 

Gustavo’s eyes roved wildly until they 
lighted on the tennis court. 

“He—he stay, signorina, to play lawn 
tennis wif me, but he go tomorrow.” 

“Oh, he is going tomorrow?—What ’s 
his name, Gustavo?” 

She put the question indifferently while 
she stooped to pet a tortoise-shell cat that 
was curled asleep on the bench. 

“His name?” Gustavo’s face cleared. 
“I get ze raygeester; you read heem your¬ 
self.” 

He darted into the bureau and returned 
with a black book. 

“Ecco, signorina!” spreading it on the 
table before her. 

His alacrity should have aroused her 

8 131 


Jerry Junior 

suspicions; but she was too intent on the 
matter in hand. She turned the pages and 
paused at the week's entries; Rudolph 
Ziegelmann und Frau, Berlin; and just 
beneath, in bold black letters that 
stretched from margin to margin, Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln, U. S. A. 

Gustavo hovered above anxiously- 
watching her face; he had been told that 
this would make everything right, that 
Abraham Lincoln was an exceedingly re¬ 
spectable name. Constance's expression 
did not change. She looked at the writing 
for fully three minutes, then she opened 
her purse and looked inside. She laid the 
money for the eggs in a pile on the table, 
and took out an extra lira which she held 
in her hand. 

“Gustavo," she asked, “do you think 
that you could tell me the truth?" 

“Signorina!" he said reproachfully. 

“How did that name get there?" 

“He write it heemself!" 

“Yes, I dare say he did—but it does n't 
happen to be his name. Oh, I 'm not 
132 



“ She turned the pages and paused at the 
week’s entries ” 







Jerry Junior 

blind; I can see plainly enough that he has 
scratched out his own name underneath.” 

Gustavo leaned forward and affected to 
examine the page. “It was a liT blot, 
signorina; he scratch heem out.” 

“Gustavo!” Her tone was despairing. 
“Are you incapable of telling the truth? 
That young man’s name is no more Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln than Victor Emmanuel II. 
When did he write that and why?” 

Gustavo’s eyes were on the lira; he 
broke down and told the truth. 

“Yesterday night, signorina. He say, 
‘ze next time zat Signorina Americana 
who is beautiful as ze angels come to zis 
hotel she look in ze raygeester, an’ I haf 
it feex ready’.” 

“Oh, he said that, did he?” 

“Si, signorina.” 

“And his real name that comes on his 
letters?” 

“Jayreem Ailyar, signorina. 

“Say it again, Gustavo.” She cocked 
her head. 

He gathered himself together for a su- 
135 


Jerry Junior 

preme effort. He rolled his r’s; he 
shouted until the courtyard reverberated. 

“Meestair-r Jay-r-reem Ailyar-r !” 

Constance shook her head. 

“Sounds like Hungarian—at least the 
way you pronounce it. But anyway it ’s 
of no consequence; I merely asked out of 
idle curiosity. And Gustavo—” She still 
held the lira—“if he asks you if I looked 
in this register, what are you going to 
say?” 

“I say, ‘no, Meestair Ailyar, she stay all 
ze time in ze courtyard talking wif ze 
parrot, and she was ver’ moch shocked at 
his Angleesh’.” 

“Ah!” Constance smiled and laid the 
lira on the table. “Gustavo,” she said, “I 
hope, for the sake of your immortal soul, 
that you go often to confession.” 

The eggs were not heavy, but Gustavo 
insisted upon carrying them; he was deter¬ 
mined to see her safely aboard the Far- 
falla, with no further accidents possible. 
That she had not identified the young man 
of the garden with the donkey-driver of 
136 


Jerry Junior 

yesterday was clear—though how such 
blindness was possible, was not clear. 
Probably she had only caught a glimpse of 
his back at a distance; in any case he 
thanked a merciful Providence and de¬ 
cided to risk no further chance. As they 
neared the end of the arbor, Gustavo was 
talking—shouting fairly; their approach 
was heralded. 

They turned into the grove. To Gus¬ 
tavo^ horror the most conspicuous object 
in it was this same reckless young man, 
seated on the water-wall nonchalantly 
smoking a cigarette. The young man rose 
and bowed; Constance nodded carelessly, 
while Gustavo behind her back made fran¬ 
tic signs for him to flee, to escape while 
still there was time. The young man tele¬ 
graphed back by the same sign language 
that there was no danger; she did n’t sus¬ 
pect the truth. And to Gustavo’s amaze¬ 
ment, he fell in beside them and strolled 
over to the water steps. His recklessness 
was catching; Gustavo suddenly deter¬ 
mined upon a bold stroke himself. 

137 


Jerry Junior 

“Signorina,” he asked, “zat man I send, 
zat donk’ driver—you like heem?” 

'Tony?’' Her manner was indifferent. 
“Oh, he does well enough; he seems hon¬ 
est and truthful, though a little stupid.” 

Gustavo and the young man exchanged 
glances. 

“And Gustavo,” she turned to him with 
a sweetly serious air that admitted no 
manner of doubt but that she was in earn¬ 
est. “I told this young man that in case 
he cared to do any mountain climbing, you 
would find him the same guide. It would 
be very useful for him to have one who 
speaks English.” 

Gustavo bowed in mute acquiescence. 
He could find no adequate words for the 
situation. 

The boat drew alongside and Constance 
stepped in, but she did not sit down. Her 
attention was attracted by two washer¬ 
women who had come clattering on to the 
little rustic bridge that spanned the stream 
above the water steps. The women, their 
baskets of linen on their heads, had paused 
to watch the embarkation. 

138 


Jerry Junior 

“Ah, Gustavo,” Constance asked over 
her shoulder, “is there a washer-woman 
here at the Hotel du Lac named Costan- 
tina ?” 

“Si, signorina, zat is Costantina stand¬ 
ing on ze bridge wif ze yellow handker¬ 
chief on her head.” 

Constance looked at Costantina, and 
nodded and smiled. Then she laughed out 
loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh 
that rang through the grove and silenced 
the chaffinches. 

Perhaps once upon a time Costantina 
was beautiful—beautiful as the angels— 
but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she 
was old and fat with a hawk nose and a 
double chin and one tooth left in the mid¬ 
dle of the front. But if she were not 
beautiful, she was at least a cheerful old 
soul, and, though she could not possibly 
know the reason, she echoed the signo- 
rina’s laugh until she nearly shook the 
clean clothes into the water. 

Constance settled herself among the 
cushions and glanced back toward the 
terrace. 


139 


Jerry Junior 

“Good afternoon/’ she nodded politely 
to the young man. 

He bowed with his hand on his heart. 

“Addio, Gustavo.” 

He bowed until his napkin swept the 
ground. 

“Addio, Costantina,” she waved her 
hand toward her namesake. 

The washer-woman laughed again and 
her earrings flashed in the sunlight. 

Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they 
caught the breeze, and the Farfalla floated 
away. 


140 


CHAPTER X 


ALF past six on Friday morn¬ 
ing and Constance appeared 
on the terrace; Constance in 
fluffy, billowy, lacy white 
with a spray of oleander in her belt—the 
last costume in the world in which one 
would start on a mountain climb. She 
cast a glance in passing toward the gate¬ 
way and the stretch of road visible be¬ 
yond, but both were empty, and seating 
herself on the parapet, she turned her at¬ 
tention to the lake. The breeze that blew 
from the farther shore brought fresh Al¬ 
pine odors of flowers and pine trees. Con¬ 
stance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed 
across toward the purple outline of Monte 
Maggiore. The serenity of her smile 
gradually gave place to doubt; she turned 
and glanced back toward the house, visibly 
changing her mind. 

141 








Jerry Junior 

But before the change was finished, the 
quiet of the morning was broken by a 
clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs 
and a series of ejaculations, both Latin 
and English. She glanced toward the 
gate where Fidilini was visible, plainly de¬ 
termined not to come in. Constance 
laughed expectantly and turned back to 
the water, her eyes intent on the fishing- 
smacks that were putting out from the 
little marino. The sounds of coercion in¬ 
creased ; a command floated down the 
driveway in the English tongue. It 
sounded like: 

“You twist his tail, Beppo, while I 
pull.” 

Apparently it was understood in spite 
of Beppo’s slight knowledge of the lan¬ 
guage. An eloquent silence followed; 
then an outraged grunt on the part of 
Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with 
a rush to the kitchen door. Tony left 
Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the 
terrace alone. His bow swept the ground 
in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but 
142 


Jerry Junior 

his glance was far bolder than a donkey- 
driver’s should have been. She noted the 
fact and tossed him a nod of marked con¬ 
descension. A silence followed during 
which Constance studied the lake; when 
she turned back, she found Tony arrang¬ 
ing a spray of oleander that had dropped 
from her belt in the band of his hat. She 
viewed this performance in silent disfavor. 
Having finished to his satisfaction, he 
tossed the hat aside and seated himself on 
the balustrade. Her frown became vis¬ 
ible. Tony sprang to his feet with an air 
of anxiety. 

“Scusi, signorina. I have not meant to 
be presumptious. Perhaps it is not fitting 
that anyone below the rank of lieutenant 
should sit in your presence?” 

“It will not be very long, Tony, before 
you are discharged for impertinence.” 

“Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it 
is your wish I will kneel when I address 
you. My family, signorina, are poor; 
they need the four francs which you so 
munificently pay.” 


143 


Jerry Junior 

“You told me that you were an orphan; 
that you had no family.” 

“I mean the family which I hope to 
have. Costantina has extravagant tastes 
and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair.” 

Constance laughed and assumed a more 
lenient air. She made a slight gesture 
which might be interpreted as an invi¬ 
tation to sit down; and Tony accepted 
it. 

“By the way, Tony, how do you talk to 
Costantina, since she speaks no English 
and you no Italian?” 

“We have no need of either Italian or 
English; the language of love, signorina, 
is universal.” 

“Oh!” she laughed again. “I was at 
the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I saw Costan¬ 
tina.” 

“You saw Costantina!—Ah, signorina, 
is she not beautiful? Ze mos’ beautiful 
in all ze world? But ver’ unkind signo¬ 
rina. Yes, she laugh at me; she smile at 
ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms.” He 
sighed profoundly. “But I love her just 
144 


Jerry Junior 

ze same, always from ze first moment I 
see her. It was washday, signorina, by 
ze lac. I climb over ze wall and talk wif 
her, but she make fun of me— ver’ unkind. 
I go away ver' sad. No use, I say, she like 
dose soldiers best. But I see her again; 
I hear her laugh—it sound like angels 
singing—I say, no, I can not go away; I 
stay here and make her love me. Yes, I 
do everysing she ask—but everysing! I 
wear earrings; I make myself into a fool 
just to please zat Costantina.” 

He leaned forward and looked into her 
eyes. A slow red flush crept over Con¬ 
stance’s face and she turned her head 
away and looked across the water. 

Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, 
stepped out upon the terrace and viewed 
the beauty of the morning with a prophetic 
eye. Miss Hazel followed in his wake; 
she wore a lavender dimity. And sud¬ 
denly it occurred to Tony’s slow moving 
masculine perception that neither lavender 
dimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit 
for mountain climbing. 

145 


Jerry Junior 

Constance slipped down from her para¬ 
pet and hurried to meet them. 

“Good-morning, Aunt Hazel. ’Morn¬ 
ing, Dad! You look beautiful! There ’s 
nothing so becoming to a man as knicker¬ 
bockers—especially if he ’s a little stout. 
— You ’re late,” she added with a touch of 
severity. “Breakfast has been waiting 
half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes.” 

She turned back toward the donkey- 
man who was standing, hat in hand, re¬ 
spectfully waiting orders. “Oh, Tony, I 
forgot to tell you; we shall not need Beppo 
and the donkeys to-day. You and my 
father are going alone.” 

“You no want to climb Monte Maggi- 
ore—ver’ beautiful mountain.” There 
was disappointment, reproach, rebellion 
in his tone. 

“We have made inquiries and my aunt 
thinks it too long a trip. Without the 
donkeys you can cross by boat, and that 
cuts off three miles.” 

“As you please, signorma.” He turned 
away. 

Constance looked after him with a 
146 


Jerry Junior 

shade of remorse. When this plan of 
sending her father and Tony alone had 
occurred to her as she sailed homeward 
yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had 
seemed a humorous and fitting retribution. 
The young man had been just a trifle too 
sure of her interest; the episode of the 
hotel register must not go unpunished. 
But—it was a beautiful morning, a long 
empty day stretched before her, and 
Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there 
was no pursuit, for the moment, which 
she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. 
Oh yes, she was spiting herself as well as 
Tony; but considering the circumstances 
the sacrifice seemed necessary. 

When the Farfalla drifted up ready to 
take the mountain-climbers, Miss Hazel 
suggested ( Constance possessed to a large 
degree the diplomatic faculty of making 
other people propose what she herself had 
decided on) that she and her niece cross 
with them. Tony was sulky and Con¬ 
stance could not forego the pleasure of 
baiting him further. 

They put in at the village, on their way, 
147 


Jerry Junior 

for the morning mail; Mr. Wilder wished 
his paper, even at the risk of not begin¬ 
ning the ascent before the sun was high. 
Giuseppe brought back from the post, 
among other matters, a letter for Con¬ 
stance. The address was in a dashing, 
angular hand that pretty thoroughly cov¬ 
ered the envelope. Had she not been so 
intent on the writing herself, she would 
have noted Tony’s astonished stare as he 
passed it to her. 

“Why!” she exclaimed, “here ’s a let¬ 
ter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarked 
Lucerne.” 

“Lucerne!” Miss Hazel echoed her sur¬ 
prise. “I thought they were to be in Eng¬ 
land for the summer ?” 

“They were—the last I heard.” Con¬ 
stance ripped the letter open and read it 
aloud. 

“Dear Constance : You ’ll doubtless be sur¬ 
prised to hear from us in Switzerland instead 
of in England, and to learn further, that in the 
course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo 

148 



“ Constance ripped the letter open and read 
it aloud ” 







Jerry Junior 

en route for the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at 
the last moment decided to come with us, and 
you know what a man is when it comes to Eu¬ 
ropean travel. Instead of taking two months 
comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate and I 
had planned, we did the whole of the British 
Isles in ten days, and Holland and France at 
the same breathless rate. 

“Jerry says he holds the record for the 
Louvre; he struck a six-mile pace at the en¬ 
trance, and by looking neither to the right nor 
the left he did the whole building in forty-three 
minutes. 

“You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt 
Kate and I are in after travelling five weeks 
with him. We simply struck in Switzerland 
and sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped 
he would meet us in Valedolmo, but we have 
been detained here longer than we expected, 
and now he ’s rushed off again—where to, 
goodness only knows; we don’t. 

“Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in 
Valedolmo about the end of the week. I am 
dying to see you; I have some beautiful news 
that ’s too complicated to write. We ’ve en¬ 
gaged rooms at the Hotel du Lac—I hope it’s 
decent; it’s the only place starred in Baedeker. 

151 


9 


Jerry Junior 

“Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to 
your father and Miss Hazel. 

“Yours ever, 

Nan Hilliard. 

“P. S. I’m awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; 
I know you’d adore him. ,, 

She returned the letter to its envelope 
and looked up. 

“Now is n’t that abominable ?” she de¬ 
manded. 

“Abominable!” Miss Hazel was scan¬ 
dalized. “My dear, I think it ’s delight¬ 
ful.” 

“Oh, yes—I mean about Jerry Junior; 
I’ve been trying for six years to get hold 
of that man.” 

Tony behind them made a sudden 
movement that let out nearly a yard of 
rope, and the Farfalla listed heavily to 
starboard. 

“Tony!” Constance threw over her 
shoulder. “Don’t you know enough to sit 
still when you are holding the sheet?” 

“Scusi,” he murmured. The sulky 
152 


Jerry Junior 

look had vanished from his face; he wore 
an expression of alert attention. 

“Of course we shall have them at the 
villa,” said Miss Hazel. “And we shall 
have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta 
has already broken so many plates that 
she has to stop and wash them between 
courses.” 

Constance looked dreamily across the 
lake; she appeared to be thinking. “I 
wonder,” she inquired finally, “if Jerry 
Junior knew we were here in Valedolmo?” 

Her father emerged from the columns 
of his paper. 

“Of course he knew it, and having 
heard what a dangerous young person 
you were, he said to himself, ‘I 'd better 
keep out/ ” 

“I wish I knew. It would make the 
score against him considerably heavier.” 

“So there is already a score? I had n't 
supposed that the game had begun.” 

She nodded. 

“Six years ago—but he does n't know 
it. Yes, Dad,” her tone was melodramatic, 
153 


Jerry Junior 

“for six years I’ve been waiting for Jerry 
Junior and planning my revenge. And 
now, when I have him almost in my grasp, 
he eludes me again!’' 

“Dear me!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. 
“What did the young man do?” 

Had Constance turned she would have 
found Tony’s face an interesting study. 
But she knew well enough without look¬ 
ing at him that he was listening to the 
conversation, and she determined to give 
him something to listen to. It was a salu¬ 
tary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of 
the fact that there were other men in the 
world. 

She sighed. 

“He was the first man I ever loved, 
Father, and he spurned me. Do you re¬ 
member that Christmas when I was in 
boarding-school and you were called 
South on business? I wanted to visit 
Nancy Long, but you would n’t let me be¬ 
cause you did n’t like her father; and you 
got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whom I had 
never set eyes on to invite me there? I 
154 


Jerry Junior 

did n’t want to go, and you said I must, 
and were perfectly horrid about it—you 
remember that?” 

Mr. Wilder grunted. 

“Yes, I see you do. And you remember 
how, with my usual sweetness, I finally 
gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew 
the reason. The Yale Glee Club came to 
Westfield that year just before the holi¬ 
days began, and Miss Jane let everybody 
go to the concert whose deportment had 
been above eighty—that of course in¬ 
cluded me. 

“Well, we all went, and we all fell in 
love—in a body—with a sophomore who 
played the banjo and sang negro songs. 
He had lovely dark gazelle-like eyes and 
he sang funny songs without smiling. The 
whole school raved about him all the way 
home; we cut his picture out of the pro¬ 
gram and pasted in the front of our 
watches. His name, Father—” she paused 
dramatically, “was Jerymn Hilliard 
Junior!” 

“I sat up half the night writing dip- 
155 


Jerry Junior 

lomatic letters to you and Mrs. Hilliard; 
and the next day when it got around that 
I was actually going to visit in his house— 
well, I was the most popular girl in school. 
I was sixteen years old then; I wore 
sailor suits and my hair was braided down 
my back. Probably I did look young; and 
then Nannie, whom I was supposedly visit¬ 
ing, was only fifteen. There were a lot 
of cousins in the house besides all the little 
Hilliards, and what do you think? They 
made the children eat in the schoolroom! 
I never saw him until Christmas night; 
then when we were introduced, he shook 
my hand in a listless sort of way, said 
‘How d’ y’ do?’ and forgot all about me. 
He went off with the Glee Club the next 
day, and I only saw him once more. 

“We were playing blind man’s buff in 
the school-room; I had just been caught 
by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. 
Everybody else was clapping and laugh¬ 
ing, when suddenly the door burst open 
and there stood Jerry Junior! He looked 
straight at me and growled: 

156 


Jerry Junior 

“ What are you kids making such an 
infernal racket about?’ ” 

She shut her eyes. 

“Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was 
my first love. His picture was at that 
moment in a locket around my neck. And 
he called me a kid!” 

“And you ’ve never seen him since?” 
Miss Hazel’s smile expressed amused in¬ 
dulgence. 

Constance shook her head. 

“He ’s always been away when I ’ve 
visited Nan—and for six years I’ve been 
waiting.” She straightened up with an 
air of determination. “But now, if he ’s 
on the continent of Europe, I ’ll get him!” 

“And what shall you do with him?” her 
father mildly inquired. 

“Do with him? I ’ll make him take it 
back; I ’ll make him eat that word kid!” 

“H’m!” said her father. “I hope you 
’ll get him; he might act as an antidote 
to some of these officers.” 

They had run in under the shadow of 
the mountain and the keel grated on the 
157 


Jerry Junior 

shore. Constance raised her eyes and 
studied the towering crag above their 
heads; when she lowered them again, her 
gaze for an instant met Tony’s. There 
was a new light in his eyes—amusement, 
triumph, something entirely baffling. He 
gave her the intangible feeling of having 
at last got the mastery of the situation. 


158 


CHAPTER XI 


HE sun was setting behind 
Monte Maggiore, the fishing 
smacks were coming home, 
Luigi had long since carried 
the tea things into the house; but still 
the two callers lingered on the terrace of 
Villa Rosa. It was Lieutenant di Fera- 
ra’s place to go first since he had come 
first, and Captain Coroloni doggedly held 
his post until such time as his junior officer 
should see fit to take himself off. The cap¬ 
tain knew, as well as everyone else at the 
officer’s mess, that in the end the lieuten¬ 
ant would be the favored man; for he was 
a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, 
and titles are at a premium in the Ameri¬ 
can market. But still the marriage con¬ 
tract was not signed yet, and the fact 
remained that the captain had come last: 
accordingly he waited. 

159 









Jerry Junior 

They had been there fully two hours, 
and poor Miss Hazel was worn with the 
strain. She sat nervously on the edge of 
her chair, and leaned forward with clasped 
hands listening intently. It required very 
keen attention to keep the run of either the 
captain’s or the lieutenant’s English. A 
few days before she had laughed at what 
seemed to be a funny story, and had later 
learned that it was an announcement of 
the death of the lieutenant’s grandmother. 
Today she confined her answers to inar¬ 
ticulate murmurs which might be inter¬ 
preted as either assents or negations as 
the case required. 

Constance however was buoyantly at 
her ease; she loved nothing better than 
the excitement of a difficult situation. As 
she bridged over pauses, and unob¬ 
trusively translated from the officer’s 
English into real English, she at the same 
time kept a watchful eye on the water. 
She had her own reasons for wishing to 
detain the callers until her father’s re¬ 
turn. 


160 


Jerry Junior 

Presently she saw, across the lake, a 
yellow sailboat float out from the shadow 
of Monte Maggiore and head in a long 
tack toward Villa Rosa. With this she 
gave up the task of keeping the conversa¬ 
tion general; and abandoning Captain Co- 
roloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the 
terrace parapet with Lieutenant di Ferara 
at her side. The picture they made was a 
charming color scheme. Constance wore 
white, the lieutenant pale blue; an olean¬ 
der tree beside them showed a cloud of 
pink blossoms, while behind them for a 
background, appeared the rose of the villa 
wall and the deep green of cypresses 
against a sunset sky. The picture was 
particularly effective as seen from the 
point of view of an approaching boat. 

Constance broke off a spray of oleander, 
and while she listened to the lieutenant’s 
recountal of a practice march, she picked 
up his hat from the balustrade and idly 
arranged the flowers in the vizor. He 
bent toward her and said something; she 
responded with a laugh. They were both 
161 


Jerry Junior 

too occupied to notice that the boat had 
floated close in shore, until the flap of the 
falling sail announced its presence. Con¬ 
stance glanced up with a start. She 
caught her father's eye fixed anxiously 
upon her; whatever Gustavo and the offi¬ 
cer's mess of the tenth cavalry might 
think, he had not the slightest wish in 
the world to see his daughter the Con- 
tessa di Ferara. Tony's face also wore 
an expression; he was sober, disgusted, 
disdainful; there was a glint of anger and 
determination in his eye. Constance hur¬ 
ried to the water steps to greet her father. 
Of Tony she took no manner of notice; if 
a man elects to be a donkey-driver, he 
must swallow the insults that go with 
the part. 

The officers, observing that Luigi was 
hovering about the doorway waiting to 
announce dinner, waived the question of 
precedence and made their adieus. While 
Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent 
on the captain's labored farewell speech, 
the lieutenant crossed to Constance who 
still stood at the head of the water steps. 

162 


Jerry Junior 

He murmured something in Italian as he 
bowed over her hand and raised it to his 
lips. Constance blushed very becomingly 
as she drew her hand away; she was 
aware, if the officer was not, that Tony 
was standing beside them looking on. 
But as he raised his eyes, he too became 
aware of it; the man's expression was 
more than impertinent. The lieutenant 
stepped to his side and said something low 
and rapid, something which should have 
made a right-minded donkey-driver touch 
his hat and slink off. But Tony held his 
ground with a laugh which was more im¬ 
pertinent than the stare had been. The 
lieutenant's face flushed angrily and his 
hand half instinctively went to his sword. 
Constance stepped forward. 

“Tony! I shall have no further need of 
your services. You may go." 

Tony suddenly came to his senses. 

“I—beg your pardon, Miss Wilder," he 
stammered. 

“I shall not want you again; please go." 
She turned her back and joined the others. 

The two officers with final salutes took 
163 


Jerry Junior 

themselves off. Miss Hazel hurried in¬ 
doors to make ready for dinner; Mr. 
Wilder followed in her wake, muttering 
something about finding the change to 
pay Tony. Constance stood where they 
left her, staring at the pavement with 
hotly burning cheeks. 

“Miss Wilder!” Tony crossed to her 
side; his manner was humble—actually 
humble—the usual mocking undertone in 
his voice was missing. “Really I ’m 
awfully sorry to have caused you annoy¬ 
ance; it was unpardonable.” 

Constance turned toward him. 

“Yes, Tony, I think it was. Your posi¬ 
tion does not give you the right to insult 
my guests.” 

Tony stiffened slightly. 

“I acknowledge that I insulted him, and 
I ’m sorry. But he insulted me, for the 
matter of that. I did n’t like the way he 
looked at me, any more than he liked the 
way I looked at him.” 

“There is a certain deference, Tony, 
which an officer in the Royal Italian Army 
164 


Jerry Junior 

has a right to expect from a donkey- 
driver.” 

Tony shrugged. 

“It is a difficult position to hold, Miss 
Wilder. A donkey-driver, I find, plays 
the same accommodating role as the fam¬ 
ily watch-dog. You pat him when you 
choose; you kick him when you choose; 
and he is supposed to swallow both atten¬ 
tions with equal grace.” 

“You should have chosen another pro¬ 
fession.” 

“Naturally, I was not flattered to find 
that your real reason for staying at home 
today, was that you were expecting more 
entertaining callers.” 

“Is there any use in discussing it fur¬ 
ther? I am not going to climb any more 
mountains, and I shall not, as I told you, 
need a donkey-man again.” 

“Then I ’m discharged?” 

“If you wish to put it so. You must see 
for yourself that the play has gone far 
enough. However, it has been amusing, 
and we will at least part friends.” 

165 


Jerry Junior 

She held out her hand; it was a mark 
of definite dismissal rather than a token 
of friendly forgiveness. 

Tony bowed over her hand in perfect 
mimicry of the lieutenant’s manner. 
“Signorina, addio!” He gravely raised it 
to his lips. 

She snatched her hand away quickly 
and without glancing at him turned 
toward the house. He let her cross half 
the terrace then he called softly: 

“Signorina!” 

She kept on without pausing. He took 
a quick step after. 

“Signorina, a moment!” 

She half turned. 

“Well?” 

“I beg of you—one little favor. There 
are two American ladies expected at the 
Hotel du Lac and I thought— perhaps— 
would you mind writing me a letter of 
recommendation ?” 

Constance turned back without a word 
and walked into the house. 

Mr. Wilder’s conversation at dinner 

166 


Jerry Junior 

that night was of the day’s excursion and 
Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glow¬ 
ing. Mountain-climbing was the most in¬ 
teresting pursuit in the world; he would 
begin tomorrow and exhaust the Alps. 
And as for Ton> -his intelligence, his 
discretion, his cleverness—there never had 
been such a guide. Constance listened 
silently, her eyes on her plate. At another 
time it might have occurred to her that 
her father’s enthusiasm was excessive, but 
tonight she was occupied with her 
thoughts, and she had no reason in the 
world to suspect him of guile. She de¬ 
cided, however, to postpone the announce¬ 
ment of Tony’s dismissal; tomorrow 
mountain-climbing might look less allur¬ 
ing. 

Dinner over, Mr. Wilder with a tired if 
satisfied sigh, dropped into a chair to 
finish his reading of the London Times. 
He no longer skimmed his paper lightly as 
in the days when papers were to be had 
hot at any hour. He read it carefully, 
painstakingly, from the first advertise- 

j 


10 


Jerry Junior 

ment to the last obituary; and he laid it 
down in the end with a disappointed sigh 
that there were not more residential prop¬ 
erties for hire, that the day’s death list 
was so meager. 

Miss Hazel settled herself to her knit¬ 
ting. She was making a rain-bow shawl 
of seven colors and an intricate pattern, 
and she had to count her stitches; conver¬ 
sation was impossible. Constance, vaguely 
restless, picked up a book and laid it down, 
and finally sauntered out to the terrace 
with no thought in the world but to see 
the moon rise over the mountains. 

As she approached the parapet she be¬ 
came aware that someone was lounging 
on the water-steps smoking a cigarette. 
The smoker rose politely but ventured no 
remark. 

“Is that you, Giuseppe?” she asked in 
Italian. 

“No, signorina. It is I—Tony. I am 
waiting for orders.” 

“For orders!” There was astonish¬ 
ment as well a is indignation in her tone. “I 
thought I made it clear—” 

168 


Jerry Junior 

“That I was discharged? Yes, signo- 
rina. But I have been so fortunate as to 
find another place. The Signor Papa has 
engage me. I go wif him; we climb all 
ze mountain around.” He waved his 
hand largely to comprise the whole land¬ 
scape. “I sink perhaps it is better so— 
for the Signor Papa and me to go alone. 
Mountain climbing is too hard; zere is too 
much fatigue, signorina, for you.” 

He bowed humbly and deferentially, 
and retired to the steps and his cigarette. 


169 


CHAPTER XII 


AlLF past six on the following 
morning found Constance 
and her father rising from 
the breakfast table and Tony 
at the gate. Constance’s nod 
of greeting was barely perceptible, and 
her father’s eye contained a twinkle as he 
watched her. Tony studied her mountain¬ 
climbing costume with an air of concern. 

“You go wif us, signorina?” His 
expression was blended of surprise and 
disapproval, but in spite of himself his 
tone was triumphant. “You say to me 
yesterday you no want to climb any more 
mountain.” 

“I have changed my mind.” 

“But zis mountain today too long, too 
high. You get tired, signorina. Perhaps 
anozzer day we take li’l’ baby mountain, 
zen you can go.” 








Jerry Junior 

“1 am going today.” 

“It is not possible, signorina. I have 
not brought ze donk’.” 

“Oh, I hn going to walk.” 

“As you please, signorina.” 

He sighed patiently. Then he looked up 
and caught her eye. They both laughed. 

“Signorina,” he whispered, “I ver’ 
happy today. Zat Costantina she more 
kind. Yesterday ver’ unkind; I go home 
ver’ sad. But today I sink—” 

“Yes?” 

“I sink after all maybe she like me liT 
bit.” 

Giuseppe rowed the three climbers a mile 
or so down the lake and set them ashore at 
the base of their mountain. They started 
up gaily and had accomplished half their 
journey before they thought of being tired. 
Tony surpassed himself; if he had been en¬ 
tertaining the day before he was doubly 
so now. His spirits were bubbling over 
and contagious. He and Constance acted 
like two children out of school. They ran 


Jerry Junior 

races and talked to the peasants in the 
wayside cottages. They drove a herd of 
goats for half a mile while the goatherd 
strolled behind and smoked Tony’s cigar¬ 
ettes. Constance took a water jar from a 
little girl they met coming from the foun¬ 
tain and endeavored to balance it on her 
own head, with the result that she nearly 
drowned both herself and the child. 

They finally stopped for luncheon in 
a grove of chestnut trees with sheep nib¬ 
bling on the hillside below them and a 
shepherd boy somewhere out of sight 
playing on a mouth organ. It should have 
been a flute, but they were in a forgiving 
mood. Constance this time did her share 
of the work. She and Tony together 
spread the cloth and made the coffee while 
her father fanned himself and looked on. 
If Mr. Wilder had any unusual thoughts 
in regard to the donkey-man, they were at 
least not reflected in his face. 

When they had finished their meal Tony 
spread his coat under a tree. 

“Signorina,” he said, “perhaps you liT 


172 


Jerry Junior 

tired? Look, I make nice place to sleep. 
You lie down and rest while ze Signor 
Papa and me, we have liT smoke. Zen 
after one, two hours I come call you.” 

Constance very willingly accepted the 
suggestion. They had walked five uphill 
miles since morning. It was two hours 
later that she opened her eyes to find Tony 
bending over her. She sat up and re¬ 
garded him sternly. He had the grace to 
blush. 

“Tony, did you kiss my hand?” 

“Scusi, signorina. I ver’ sorry to wake 
you, but it is tree o’clock and ze Signor 
Papa he say we must start just now or we 
nevair get to ze top.” 

“Answer my question.” 

“Signorina, I cannot tell to you a lie. 
It is true, I forget I am just poor donkev- 
man. I play liT game. You sleeping 
beauty; I am ze prince. I come to wake 
you. Just one kiss I drop on your hand- 
one ver’ little kiss, signorina.” 

Constance assumed an air of indignant 
reproof but in the midst of it she laughed. 
173 


Jerry Junior 

“I wish you would n’t be so funny, 
Tony; I can't scold you as much as you de¬ 
serve. But I am angry just the same, 
and if anything like that ever happens 
again I shall be very very angry. 

“Signorina, I would <iot make you very 
very angry for anysing. As long as I live 
nosing like zat shall happen again. No, 
nevair, I promise." 

They plunged into a pine wood and 
climbed for another two hours, the sum¬ 
mit always vanishing before them like a 
mirage. At the end of that time they 
were apparently no nearer their goal than 
when they had started. They had followed 
first one path, then another, until they had 
lost all sense of direction, and finally when 
they came to a place where three paths di¬ 
verged, they had to acknowledge them¬ 
selves definitely lost. Mr. Wilder elected 
one path, Tony another, and Constance sat 
down on a rock. 

“I 'm not going any farther," she ob¬ 
served. 

“You can't *stay here all night," said 
her father. 


174 


Jerry Junior 

“Well, I can’t walk over this mountain 
all night. We don’t get anywhere; we 
merely move in circles. I don’t think 
much of the guide you engaged. He does 
n’t know his way.” 

“He was n’t engaged to know his way,” 
Tony retorted. “He was engaged to wear 
earrings and sing Santa Lucia.” 

Constance continued to sit on her rock 
while Tony went forward on a recon- 
noitering expedition. He returned in ten 
minutes with the information that there 
was a shepherd’s hut not very far off with 
a shepherd inside who would like to be 
friendly. If the signorina would deign to 
ask some questions in the Italian language 
which she spoke so fluently, they could 
doubtless obtain directions as to the way 
home. 

They found the shepherd, the shep¬ 
herdess and four little shepherds eating 
their evening polenta in an earth-floored 
room, with half a dozen chickens and the 
family pig gathered about them in an ex¬ 
pectant group. They rose politely and in¬ 
vited the travellers to enter. It was an 
175 


Jerry Junior 

event in their simple lives when foreigners 
presented themselves at the door. 

Constance commenced amenities by an¬ 
nouncing that she had been walking on the 
mountain since sunrise *r1xl was starving. 
Did they by chance ha’Ce any fresh milk? 

“Starving! Madonna mia, how dread¬ 
ful !” Madame held up her hands. But 
yes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They 
kept four cows. That was their business 
—turning milk into cheese and selling it 
on market day in the village. Also they 
had some fresh mountain strawberries 
which Beppo had gathered that morning 
—perhaps they too might be pleasing to 
the signorina? 

Constance nodded affirmatively, and 
added, with her eyes on the pig, that it 
might be pleasanter to eat outside where 
they could look at the view. She became 
quite gay again over what she termed 
their afternoon tea-party, and her father 
had to remind her most insistently that if 
they wished to get down before darkness 
overtook them they must start at once. 
176 


Jerry Junior 

An Italian twilight is short. They paid 
for the food and presented a lira apiece to 
the children, leaving them silhouetted 
against the sky in a bobbing row shouting 
musical farewells. 

Their host led them through the woods 
and out on to the brow of the mountain in 
order to start them down by the right 
path. He regretted that he could not go 
all the way but the sheep had still to be 
brought in for the night. At the parting 
he was garrulous with directions. 

The easiest way to get home now would 
be straight down the mountain to Grotta 
del Monte—he pointed out the brown-tiled 
roofs of a village far below them—there 
they could find donkeys or an ox-cart to 
take them back. It was nine kilometres to 
Valedolmo. They had come quite out of 
their way; if they had taken the right path 
in the morning they would have reached 
the top where the view was magnificant— 
truly magnificant. It was a pity to miss it. 
Perhaps some other day they would like to 
come again and he himself would be 
177 


Jerry Junior 

pleased to guide them. He shook hands 
and wished them a pleasant journey. They 
would best hurry a trifle, he added, for 
darkness came fast and when one got 
caught on the mountain at night—he 
shrugged his shoulders and looked at 
Tony—one needed a guide who knew his 
business. 

They had walked for ten minutes when 
they heard someone shouting behind and 
found a young man calling to them to 
wait. He caught up with them and 
breathlessly explained. 

Pasquale had told him that they were 
foreigners from America who were climb¬ 
ing the mountain for diversion and who 
had lost their way. He was going down 
to the village himself and would be pleased 
to guide them. 

He fell into step beside Constance and 
commenced asking questions, while Tony, 
as the path was narrow, perforce fell be¬ 
hind. Occasionally Constance translated, 
but usually she laughed without trans¬ 
lating, and Tony, for the twentieth time, 
i 7 8 


Jerry Junior 

found himself hating the Italian lan¬ 
guage. 

The young man's questions were re¬ 
freshingly ingenuous. He was curious 
about America, since he was thinking, he 
said, of becoming an American himself 
some day. He knew a man once who had 
gone to America to live and had made a 
fortune there—but yes a large fortune— 
ten thousand lire in four years. Perhaps 
the signorina knew him—Giuseppe Motta; 
he lived in Buenos Aires. And what did 
it look like—America? How was it dif¬ 
ferent from Italy? 

Constance described the skyscrapers in 
New York. 

His wonder was intense. A building 
twenty stories high! Dio mio! He should 
hate to mount himself up all those stairs. 
Were the buildings like that in the coun¬ 
try too ? Did the shepherds live in houses 
twenty stories high? 

"Oh no," she laughed. "In the country 
the houses are just like these only they are 
made of wood instead of stone." 


179 


Jerry Junior 

“Of wood?” He opened his eyes. “But 
signorina, do they never burn ?” 

He had another question to ask. He 
had been told—though of course he did 
not believe it—that the Indians in Amer¬ 
ica had red skins. 

Constance nodded yes. His eyes 
opened wider. 

“Truly red like your coat?” with a 
glance at her scarlet golf jacket. 

“Not quite,” she admitted. 

“But how it must be diverting,” he 
sighed, “to travel the world over and see 
different things.” He fell silent and 
trudged on beside her, the wanderlust in 
his eyes. 

It was almost dark when they reached 
the big arched gateway that led into the 
village. Here their ways parted and they 
paused for farewell. 

“Signorina,” the young man said sud¬ 
denly, “take me with you back to America. 
I will prune your olive trees, I will tend 
your vines. You can leave me in charge 
when you go on your travels.” 

180 


Jerry Junior 

She shook her head with a laugh. 

“But I have no vines; I have no olive 
trees. You would be homesick for Italy.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Then good bye. You, signorina, will 
go around the world and see many sights 
while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey 
to Valedolmo.” 

He shook hands all around and with the 
grace of a prince accepted two of Tony's 
cigarettes. His parting speech showed 
him a fatalist. 

“What will be, will be. There is a 
girl—” he waved his hand vaguely in the 
direction of the village. “If I go to Amer¬ 
ica then I cannot stay behind and marry 
Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the 
best. You will find me, signorina, when 
next you come to Italy, still digging the 
ground in Grotta del Monte.” 

As he swung away Tony glanced after 
him with a suggestion of malice, then he 
transferred his gaze to the empty gate¬ 
way. 

“I see no one else with whom you can 
181 


Jerry Junior 

talk Italian. Perhaps for ten minutes you 
will deign to speak English with me?” 

“I am too tired to talk,” she threw over 
her shoulder as she followed her father 
through the gate. 

They plunged into a tangle of tortuous 
paved streets, the houses pressing each 
other as closely as if there were not all the 
outside world to spread in. Grotta del 
Monte is built on a slope and its streets 
are in reality long narrow flights of stairs 
all converging in the little piazza. The 
moon was not yet up, and aside from an 
occasional flickering light before a ma¬ 
donna’s shrine, the way was black. 

“Signorina, take my arm. I ’m afraid 
maybe you fall.” 

Tony’s voice was humbly persuasive. 
Constance laughed and laid her hand 
lightly on his arm. Tony dropped his 
own hand over hers and held her firmly. 
Neither spoke until they came to the 
piazza. 

“Signorina,” he whispered, “you make 
me ver’ happy tonight.” 

182 


Jerry Junior 

She drew her hand away. 

“I 'm tired, Tony. I 'm not quite my¬ 
self.” 

“No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe 
you not yourself, but to-day you ver' good 
ver' kind—jus’ your own self ze way you 
ought to be.” 

The piazza, after the dark, narrow 
streets that led to it, seemed bubbling with 
life. The day's work was finished and the 
evening's play had begun. In the center, 
where a fountain splashed into a broad 
bowl, groups of women and girls with cop¬ 
per water-jars were laughing and gossip¬ 
ing as they waited their turns. One side 
of the square was flanked by the imposing 
fagade of a church with the village saint 
on a pedestal in front; the other side, by a 
cheerfully inviting osteria with tables and 
chairs set into the street and a glimpse in¬ 
side of a blazing hearth and copper kettles. 

Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for 
the nearest chair and dropped into it with 
an expression of permanence. Constance 
followed and they held a colloquy with a 
i S3 


11 


Jerry Junior 

bowing host. He was vague as to the 
finding of carriage or donkeys, but if they 
would accommodate themselves until after 
supper there would be a diligence along 
which would take them back to Valedolmo. 

“How soon will the diligence arrive?” 
asked Constance. 

The man spread out his hands. 

“It is due in three quarters of an hour, 
but it may be early and it may be late. It 
arrives when God and the driver wills.” 

“In that case,” she laughed, “we will ac¬ 
commodate ourselves until after supper— 
and we have appetites! Please bring 
everything you have.” 

They supped on minestra and fritto 
misto washed down with the red wine of 
Grotta del Monte, which, their host as¬ 
sured them, was famous through all the 
country. He could not believe that they 
had never heard of it in Valedolmo. Peo¬ 
ple sent for it from far off; even from 
Verona. 

They finished their supper and the fa¬ 
mous wine, but there was still no diligence. 

184 


Jerry Junior 

The village also had finished its supper 
and was drifting in family groups into 
the piazza. The moon was just showing 
above the house-tops, and its light, com¬ 
bined with the blazing braziers before the 
cook-shops made the square a patch work 
of brilliant high-lights and black shadows 
from deep cut doorways. Constance sat 
up alertly and watched the people crowd¬ 
ing past. Across from the inn an itinerant 
show had established itself on a rudely im¬ 
provised stage, with two flaring torches 
which threw their light half across the 
piazza, and turned the spray of the foun¬ 
tain into an iridescent shower. The 
gaiety of the scene was contagious. Con¬ 
stance rose insistently. 

“Come, Dad; let ’s go over and see what 
they 're doing.” 

“No, thank you, my dear. I prefer my 
chair.” 

“Oh, Dad, you *re so phlegmatic!” 

“But I thought you were tired.” 

“I ’m not any more; I want to see the 
play.—You come then, Tony.” 

185 


Jerry Junior 

Tony rose with an elaborate sigh. 

“As you please, signorina,” he mur¬ 
mured obediently. An onlooker would 
have thought Constance cruel in dragging 
him away from his well-earned rest. 

They made their way across the piazza 
and mounted the church steps behind the 
crowd where they could look across 
obliquely to the little stage. A clown was 
dancing to the music of a hurdy-gurdy 
while a woman in a tawdry pink satin 
evening gown beat an accompaniment on 
a drum. It was a very poor play with 
very poor players, and yet it represented 
to these people of Grotta del Monte some¬ 
thing of life, of the big outside world 
which they in their little village would 
never see. Their upturned faces touched 
by the moonlight and the flare of the 
torches contained a look of wondering 
eagerness—the same look that had been in 
the eyes of the young peasant when he had 
begged to be taken to America. 

The two stood back in the shadow of 
the doorway watching the people with the 
186 


Jerry Junior 

same interest that the people were expend¬ 
ing on the stage. A child had been lifted 
to the base of the saint's pedestal in order 
to see, and in the excitement of a duel be¬ 
tween two clowns he suddenly lost his bal¬ 
ance and toppled off. His mother snatched 
him up quickly and commenced covering 
the hurt arm with kisses to make it well. 

Constance laughed. 

“Is n't it queer," she asked, “to think 
how different these people are from us and 
yet how exactly the same. Their way of 
living is absolutely foreign but their feel¬ 
ings are just like yours and mine." 

He touched her arm and called her at¬ 
tention to a man and a girl on the step 
below them. It was the young peasant 
again who had guided them down the 
mountain, but who now had eyes for no 
one but Maria. She leaned toward him to 
see the stage and his arm was around her. 
Their interest in the play was purely a 
pretense and both of them knew it. 

Tony laughed softly and echoed her 
words. 


187 


Jerry Junior 

“Yes, their feelings are just like yours 
and mine.” 

He slipped his arm around her. 

Constance drew back quickly. 

“I think,” she remarked, “that the dili¬ 
gence has come.” 

“Oh, hang the diligence!” Tony 
growled. “Why could n’t it have been five 
minutes late?” 

They returned to the inn to find Mr. 
Wilder already on the front seat, and 
obligingly holding the reins, while the 
driver occupied himself with a glass of the 
famous wine. The diligence was a roomy 
affair of four seats and three horses. Be¬ 
hind the driver were three Italians gesticu¬ 
lating violently over local politics; a new 
sindaco was imminent. Behind these 
were three black-hooded nuns covertly in¬ 
terested in the woman in the pink evening 
gown. And behind the three, occupying 
the exact center of the rear seat, was a 
fourth nun with the portly bearing of a 
Mother Superior. She was very com¬ 
fortable as she was, and did not propose 
188 


Jerry Junior 

to move. Constance climbed up on one 
side of her and Tony on the other. 

“We are well chaperoned/’ he grum¬ 
bled, as they jolted out of the piazza. “I 
always did think that the Church inter¬ 
fered too much with the rights of indi¬ 
viduals.” 

Constance, in a spirit of friendly ex¬ 
pansiveness, proceeded to pick up an 
acquaintance with the nuns, and the four 
black heads were presently bobbing in 
unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at 
his end of the seat, folded his arms and 
stared at the road. The driver had passed 
through many villages that day and had 
drunk many glasses of famous wine; he 
cracked his whip and sang as he drove. 
They rattled in and out of stone-paved 
villages, along open stretches of moonlit 
road, past villas and olive groves. Chil¬ 
dren screamed after them, dogs barked, 
Constance and her four nuns were very 
vivacious, and Tony’s gloom deepened 
with every mile. 

They had covered three quarters of the 
189 


Jerry Junior 

distance when the diligence was brought 
to a halt before a high stone wall and a 
solid barred gate. The nuns came back to 
the present with an excited cackling. Who 
would believe they had reached the con¬ 
vent so soon! They made their adieus 
and ponderously descended, their depar¬ 
ture accelerated by Tony who had become 
of a sudden alertly helpful. As they 
started again he slid along into the 
Mother Superior’s empty seat. 

“What were we saying when the dili¬ 
gence interrupted?” he inquired. 

“I don’t remember, Tony, but I don’t 
want to talk any more; I’m tired.” 

“You tired, signorina? Lay your head 
on my shoulder and go to sleep.” 

“Tony, please behave yourself. I ’m 
simply too tired to make you do it.” 

He reached over and took her hand. 
She did not try to withdraw it for two— 
three minutes; then she shot him a side- 
wise glance. ^ 

“Tony,” she said, “don’t you think you 
are forgetting your place ?” 

190 


Jerry Junior 

“No, signorina, I am just learning it.” 

“Let go my hand.” 

He gazed pensively at the moon and 
hummed Santa Lucia under his breath. 

“Tony! I shall be angry with you.” 

“I shall be ver’ sorry for zat, signorina. 
I do not wish to make you angry, but I 
sink—perhaps you get over it.” 

“You are behaving abominably today, 
Tony. I shall never stay alone with you 
again.” 

“Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. 
Is it not ver’ bright? When I look at zat 
moon I have always beautiful toughts 
about how much I love Costantina.” 

An interval followed during which 
neither spoke. The driver’s song was 
growing louder and the horses were gal¬ 
loping. The diligence suddenly rounded a 
curved cliff on two wheels. Constance 
lurched against him;’he caught her and 
held her. Her lips were very near his; 
he kissed her softly. 

She moved to the far end of the seat 
and faced him with flushed cheeks. 


Jerry Junior 

“I thought you were a gentleman!” 

“I used to be, signorina; now I am only 
poor donkey-man.” 

“I shall never speak to you again. You 
can climb as many mountains as you wish 
with my father, but you can’t have any¬ 
thing more to do with me.” 

“Scusi, signorina. I—I did not mean 
to. It was just an accident, signorina.” 

Constance turned her back and stared at 
the road. 

“It was not my fault. Truly it was not 
my fault. I did not wish to kiss you—no 
nevair. But I could not help it. You put 
your head too close.” 

She raised her eyes and studied the 
mountain-top. 

“Signorina, why you treat me so 
cruel?” 

Her back was inflexible. 

“I am desolate. If you forgive me zis 
once I will nevair again do a sing so 
wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair.” 

Constance continued her inspection of 
the mountain-top. Tony leaned forward 
until he could see her face. 


192 


Jerry Junior 

“Signorina,” he whispered, “jus’ give 
me one liT smile to show me you are not 
angry forever.” 

The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder 
was climbing down but Constance’s gaze 
was still fixed on the sky, and Tony’s eyes 
were on her. 

“What ’s the matter, Constance, have 
you gone to sleep? Are n’t you going to 
get out?” 

She came back with a start. 

“Are we here already?” 

There was a suspicion of regret in her 
tone which did not escape Tony. 

At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them 
a humbly deferential good-night but with 
a smile hovering about the corners of his 
mouth. Constance made no response. As 
he strode ofif, however, she turned her 
head and looked after him. He turned too 
and caught her. He waved his hand with 
a laugh, and took up his way, whistling 
Santa Lucia in double time. 


193 


CHAPTER XIII 


HREE days passed in which 
Mr. Wilder and Tony indus¬ 
triously climbed, and in which 
nothing of consequence passed 
between Constance and Tony. If she 
happened to be about when the expedi¬ 
tions either started or came to an end 
(and for one reason or another she 
usually was) she ignored him entirely; 
and he ignored her, except for an occa¬ 
sional mockingly deferential bow. He 
appeared to extract as much pleasure from 
the excursions as Mr. Wilder, and he 
asked for no extra compensation by the 
way. 

It was Tuesday again, just a week and 
a day since the young American had 
dropped over the wall of Villa Rosa ask¬ 
ing for the garden of the prince. Tony 
194 






Jerry Junior 

and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss 
Hazel and Constance on the point of sit¬ 
ting down to afternoon tea—there were 
no guests today—when the gardener from 
the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message 
from Nannie Hilliard. She and her aunt 
had arrived half an hour before, which 
was a good two days earlier than they 
were due. Constance read the note with a 
clouded brow and silently passed it to Miss 
Hazel. The news was not so entirely wel¬ 
come as under other circumstances it 
would have been. Nannie Hilliard was 
both perspicacious and fascinating, and 
Constance foresaw that her presence 
would tangle further the already tangled 
plot of the little comedy which was un¬ 
folding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss 
Hazel, divining nothing of comedies or 
plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter 
by the news. Guests were a luxury which 
occurred but seldom in the quiet mo¬ 
notony of Valedolmo. 

“We must call on them at once and 
bring them back to the house.” 

195 


Jerry Junior 

“I suppose we must.” Constance 
agreed with an uncordial sigh. 

Fifteen minutes later they were on their 
way to the Hotel du Lac, while Elizabetta, 
on her knees in the villa guest-room, was 
vigorously scrubbing the mosaic floor. 

Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He 
was plainly in a flutter; something had oc¬ 
curred to upset the usual suavity of his 
manners. 

“Si, signorina, in ze garden—ze two 
American ladies—having tea. And you 
are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you 
are acquaint wif zem, and you never tell 
me!” There was mystification and re¬ 
proach in his tone. 

Constance eyed him with a degree of 
mystification on her side. 

“I am acquainted with a number of 
families that I have never told you about,” 
she observed. 

“Scusi, signorina,” he stammered; and 
immediately, “Tony, zat donk’-man, what 
you do wif him?” 

“Oh, he and my father are climbing 
Monte Brione today.” 

196 



Jerry Junior 

“What time zay come home? ,, 

“About seven o'clock, I fancy." 

“Ze signora and ze signorina—zay 
come two days before zay are expect." 
He was clearly aggrieved by the fact. 

Constance’s mystification increased; she 
saw not the slightest connection. 

“I suppose, Gustavo, you can find them 
something to eat even if they did come 
two days before they were expected?" 

The two turned toward the arbor, but 
Constance paused for a moment and 
glanced back with a shade of mischief in 
her eye. 

“By the way, Gustavo, that young man 
who taught the parrot English has gone?" 

Gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and 
back to her face. She understood noth¬ 
ing; was there ever a muddle like this? 

“Si, signorina," he murmured con¬ 
fusedly, “ze yong man is gone." 

Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, 
and 'with a start which nearly upset the 
tea table, came running forward to meet 
them; while her aunt, Mrs. Eustace, fol¬ 
lowed more placidly. Nannie was a big 
197 


Jerry Junior 

wholesome outdoor girl of a purely Amer- 
ican type. She waited for no greetings; 
she had news to impart. 

“Constance, Miss Hazel! I’m so glad 
to see you—what do you think? I ’m 
engaged!” 

Miss Hazel murmured incoherent con¬ 
gratulations, and tried not to look as 
shocked as she felt. In her day, no lady 
would have made so delicate an announce¬ 
ment in any such off-hand manner as this. 
Constance received it in the spirit in which 
it was given. 

“Who ’s the man?” she inquired, as she 
shook hands with Mrs. Eustace. 

“You don’t know him—Harry East¬ 
man, a friend of Jerry’s. Jerry does n’t 
know it yet, and I had to confide in some¬ 
one. Oh, it ’s no secret; Harry cabled 
home—he wanted to get it announced so I 
could n’t change my mind. You see he 
only had a three weeks’ vacation; he took 
a fast boat, landed at Cherbourg, followed 
us the whole length of France, and caught 
us in Lucerne just after Jerry had gone. 
198 



Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came running forward to 

meet them ” 


































Jerry Junior 

I could n't refuse him after he 'd taken 
such a lot of trouble. That 's what de¬ 
tained us: we had expected to come a week 
ago. And now—" by a rapid change of 
expression she became-tragic.— “We Ve 
lost Jerry Junior!" 

“Lost Jerry Junior!" Constance's tone 
was interested. “What has become of 
him?" 

“We have n't an idea. He 's been 
spirited off—vanished from the earth and 
left no trace. Really, we 're beginning to 
be afraid he's been captured by brigands. 
That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows 
where he is, but we can't get a word out of 
him. He tells a different story every ten 
minutes. I looked in the register to see if 
by chance he'd left an address there, and 
what do you think I found?" 

“Oh!" said Constance; there was a 
world of illumination in her tone. “What 
did you find?" she asked, hastily suppress¬ 
ing every emotion but polite curiosity. 

“ 'Abraham Lincoln' in Jerry's hand¬ 
writing!" 

12 


201 


Jerry Junior 

“Really!” Constance dimpled irrepress¬ 
ibly. “You are sure Jerry wrote it?” 

“It was his writing; and I showed it to 
Gustavo, and what do you think he said?” 

Constance shook her head. 

“He said that Jerry had forgotten to 
register, that that was written by a Hun¬ 
garian nobleman who was here last 
week—imagine a Hungarian nobleman 
named Abraham Lincoln!” 

Constance dropped into one of the little 
iron chairs and bowed her head on the 
back and laughed. 

“Perhaps you can explain?” There was 
a touch of sharpness in Nannie’s tone. 

“Don’t ever ask me to explain any¬ 
thing Gustavo says; the man is not to be 
believed under oath.” 

“But what’s become of Jerry?” 

“Oh, he ’ll turn up.” Constance’s tone 
was comforting. “Aunt Hazel,” she 
called. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, 
their heads together over the tea table, 
were busily making up three months’ 
dropped news. “Do you remember the 


202 


Jerry Junior 

young man I told you about who popped 
into our garden last week? That was 
Jerry Junior!” 

“Then you Ve seen him?” said Nannie. 

Constance related the episode of the 
broken wall—the sequel she omitted. “I 
had n’t seen him for six years,” she added 
apologetically, “and I did n’t recognize 
him. Of course if I ’d dreamed—” 

Nannie groaned. 

“And I thought I’d planned it so beau¬ 
tifully!” 

“Planned what ?” 

“I suppose I might as well tell you 
since it ’s come to nothing. We hoped— 
that is, you see—I’ve been so worried for 
fear Jerry—” She took a breath and be¬ 
gan again. “You know, Constance, when 
it comes to getting married, a man has no 
more sense than a two-year child. So I 
determined to pick out a wife for Jerry, 
myself, one I would like to have for a 
sister. I ’ve done it three times and he 
simply would n’t look at them; you can’t 
imagine how stubborn he is. But when 
203 


Jerry Junior 

I found we were coming to Valedolmo, I 
said to myself, now this is my opportunity; 
I will have him marry Connie Wilder.” 

“You might have asked my permis¬ 
sion.” 

“Oh, well, Jerry 's a dear; next to 
Harry you could n’t find anyone nicer. 
But I knew the only way was not to let 
him suspect. I thought you see that you 
were still staying at the hotel; I did n’t 
know you 'd taken a villa, so I planned for 
him to come to meet us three days before 
we really expected to get here. I thought 
in the meantime, being stranded together 
in a little hotel you 'd surely get ac¬ 
quainted—Jerry 's very resourceful that 
way—and with all this beautiful Italian 
scenery about, and nothing to do—” 

“I see!” Constance's tone was some¬ 
what dry. 

“But nothing happened as I had 
planned. You were n't here, he was bored 
to death, and I was detained longer than 
I meant. We got the most pathetic letter 
from him the second day, saying there 
204 


Jerry Junior 

was no one but the head waiter to talk to, 
nothing but an india-rubber tree to look 
at, and if we did n’t come immediately, 
he ’d do the Dolomites without us. Then 
finally, just as we were on the point of 
leaving, he sent a telegram saying: 'Don’t 
come. Am climbing mountains. Stay 
there till you hear from me.’ But being 
already packed, we came, and this is what 
we find—” She waved her hand over the 
empty grove. 

"It serves you right; you should n’t 
deceive people.” 

"It was for Jerry’s good—and yours 
too. But what shall we do? He does n’t 
know we ’re here and he has left no ad¬ 
dress.” 

"Come out to the villa and visit us till 
he comes to search for you.” 

Constance could hear her aunt deliver¬ 
ing the same invitation to Mrs. Eustace, 
and she perforce repeated it, though with 
the inward hope that it would be declined. 
She had no wish that Tony and her father 
should return from their trip to find a 
205 


Jerry Junior 

family party assembled on the terrace. 
The adventure was not to end with any 
such tame climax as that. To her relief 
they did decline, at least for the night; 
they could make no definite plans until 
they had heard from Jerry. Constance 
rose upon this assurance and precipitated 
their leave-takings; she did not wish her 
aunt to press them to change their minds. 

“Good-bye, Mrs. Eustace, good-bye, 
Nannie; we ’ll be around tonight to take 
you sailing—provided there ’s any 
breeze.” 

She nodded and dragged her aunt off; 
but as they were entering the arbor a plan 
for further complicating matters popped 
into her head, and she turned back to 
call: 

“You are coming to the villa tomorrow, 
remember, whether Jerry Junior turns up 
or not. I 'll write a note and invite him 
too—Gustavo can give it to him when he 
comes, and you need n’t bother any more 
about him.” 

They found Gustavo hovering omnivor- 
206 


Jerry Junior 

ously in the courtyard, hungering for 
news; Constance summoned him to her 
side. 

“Gustavo, I am going to send you a note 
tonight for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. You 
will see that it gets to him as soon as he 
arrives ?” 

“Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?” Gustavo 
stared. 

“Yes, the brother of the signorina who 
came today. He is expected tomorrow or 
perhaps the day after/’ 

“Scusij signorina. You—you acquaint 
wif him?” 

“Yes, certainly. I have known him for 
six years. Don’t forget to deliver the 
note; it’s important.” 

They raised their parasols and departed, 
while Gustavo stood in the gateway bow¬ 
ing. The motion was purely mechanical; 
his thoughts were laboring elsewhere. 


207 


CHAPTER XIV 



ONSTANCE occupied herself 
upon their return to Villa 
Rosa in writing the letter to 
Jerry Junior. It had occurred 
to her that this was an excellent chance 
to punish him, and it was the work¬ 
ing philosophy of her life that a man 
should always be punished when oppor¬ 
tunity presented. Tony had been entirely 
too unconcerned during the past few 
days; he needed a lesson. She spent three 
quarters of an hour in composing her let¬ 
ter and tore up two false starts before she 
was satisfied. It did not contain the 
slightest hint that she knew the truth, and 
—considered in this light—it was likely 
to have a chastening effect. The letter 
ran: 


208 






Jerry Junior 


“Villa Rosa, Valedolmo, 

“Lago di Garda. 

“Dear Jerry Junior: I hope you don’t mind 
being called “Jerry Junior,” but “Mr. Hil¬ 
liard” sounds so absurdly formal, when I have 
known your sister so long and so well. We 
are spending the summer here in Valedolmo, 
and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie have promised 
to stop with us for a few days, provided you 
can be persuaded to pause in your mad rush 
through Europe. Now please take pity on us 
—guests are such unusual luxuries, and as for 
men! Besides a passing tourist or so, we have 
had nothing but Italian officers. You can 
climb mountains with my father—Nan says 
you are a climber—and we can supply moun¬ 
tains enough to keep you occupied for a month. 

“My father would write himself, only that 
he is climbing this moment. 

“Yours most cordially, 

“Constance Wilder.” 

“P. S. I forgot to mention that we are ac¬ 
quainted already, you and I. We met six years 
ago, and you insulted me—under your own 
roof. You called me a kid. I shall accept 
nothing but a personal apology.” 


209 


Jerry Junior 

Having read it critically, she sealed and 
addressed it with malicious delight; it was 
calculated to arouse just about the emo¬ 
tions she would like to have Tony enter¬ 
tain. She gave the note to Giuseppe with 
instructions to place it in Gustavo’s hands, 
and then settled herself gaily to await 
results. 

Giuseppe was barely out of sight when 
the two Alpine-climbers appeared at the 
gate. Constance had been wondering how 
she could inform Tony that his aunt and 
sister had arrived, without unbending 
from the dignified silence of the past three 
days. The obvious method was to an¬ 
nounce it to her father in Tony’s presence, 
but her father slipped into the house by 
the back way without affording her an 
opportunity. It was Tony himself who 
solved the difficulty. Of his own accord 
he crossed the terrace and approached her 
side. He laid a bunch of edelweiss on the 
balustrade. 

“It’s a peace offering,” he observed. 

She looked at him a moment without 
speaking. There was a new expression 


210 


Jerry Junior 

in her eyes that puzzled Tony, just as the 
expression in his eyes that morning on 
the water had puzzled her. She was 
studying him in the light of Jerry Junior. 
The likeness to the sophomore, who six 
years before sang the funny songs with¬ 
out a smile, was so very striking, she 
wondered she could ever have over¬ 
looked it. 

“Thank you, Tony; it is very nice of 
you.” She picked up the flowers and 
smiled—with the knowledge of the letter 
that was waiting for him she could afford 
to be forgiving. 

“You discharged me, signorina; will 
you take me back into your service ?” 

“I am not going to climb any more 
mountains; it is too fatiguing. I think it 
is better for you and my father to go 
alone.” 

“I will serve you in other ways.” 

Constance studied the mountains a mo¬ 
ment. Should she tell him she knew, or 
should she keep up the pretense a little 
longer? Her insatiable love of intrigue 
won. 


2II 


Jerry Junior 

“Are you sure you wish to be taken 
back?” 

“Si, signorina, I am very sure.” 

“Then perhaps you will do me a favor 
on your way home tonight?” 

“You have but to ask.” 

“I wish to send a message to a young 
American man who is staying at the 
Hotel du Lac—you may have seen him?” 

Tony nodded. 

“I have climb Monte Maggiore wif him. 
You recommend me; I sank you ver’ moch. 
Nice man, zat yong American; ver’ good, 
ver’ simpatico.” He leaned forward with 
a sudden air of anxiety. “Signorina, you 
—you like zat yong man?” 

“I have only met him twice, but—yes, I 
like him.” 

“You like him better zan me?” His 
anxiety deepened; he hung upon her 
words. 

She shook her head reassuringly. 

“I like you both exactly the same.” 

“Signorina, which you like better, zat 
yong American or ze Signor Lieutenant?” 


212 


Jerry Junior 

“Your questions are getting too per- 
sonal, Tony.” 

He folded his arms and sighed. 

“Will you deliver my message?” 

“Si, signorina, wif pleasure.” There 
was not a trace of curiosity in his expres¬ 
sion, nothing beyond a deferential desire 
to serve. 

“Tell him, Tony, that Miss Wilder will 
be at home tomorrow afternoon at tea 
time; if he will come by the gate and 
present a card she will be most pleased 
to see him. She wishes him to meet 
an American friend, a Miss Hilliard, 
who has just arrived at the hotel this 
afternoon.” 

She watched him sharply; his expres¬ 
sion did not alter by a shade. He repeated 
the message and then added as if by the 
merest chance: 

“Ze yong American man, signorina— 
you know his name?” 

“Yes, I know his name.” This time for 
the fraction of a second she surprised a 
look. “His name—” she hesitated tan- 


213 


Jerry Junior 

talizingly— “is Signor Abraham Lin¬ 
coln.” 

“Signor Ab-ra-ham Lin-coln.” He re¬ 
peated it after her as if committing it to 
memory. They gazed at each other 
soberly a moment; then both laughed and 
looked away. 

Luigi had appeared in the doorway. 
Seeing no one more important than Tony 
about, he found no reason for delaying 
the announcement of dinner. 

“II pranzo e sulla tavola, signorina” 

“Bene!” said Constance over her shoul¬ 
der. She turned back to Tony; her manner 
was kind. “If you go to the kitchen, Tony, 
Elizabetta will give you some dinner.” 

“Sank you, signorina.” His manner 
was humble. “Elizabetta’s dinners con¬ 
sist of a plate of garlic and macaroni on 
the kitchen steps. I don’t like garlic and 
I ’m.tired of macaroni; if it ’s just the 
same to you, I think I ’ll dine at home.” 
He held out his hand. 

She read his purpose in his eye and put 
her own hands behind her. 


214 


Jerry Junior 

“You won't shake hands, signorina? 
We are not friends?" 

“I learned a lesson the last time." 

“You shake hands wif Lieutenant 
Count Carlo di Ferara." 

“It is the custom in Italy." 

“We are in Italy." 

“Behave yourself, Tony, and run along 
home!" 

She laughed and nodded and turned 
away. On the steps she paused to add: 

“Be sure not to forget the message for 
Signor Abraham Lincoln. I shall be dis¬ 
appointed if he does n't come." 


215 


CHAPTER XV 



ONY returned to the Hotel du 
Lac, modestly, by the back 
way. He assured himself 
that his aunt and sister were 
well by means of an open window in the 
rear of the dining-room. The window 
was shaded by a clump of camellias, and 
he studied at his ease the back of Mrs. 
Eustace’s head and Nannie’s vivacious 
profile as she talked in fluent and execrable 
German to the two Alpinists who were, at 
the moment, the only other guests. Bro¬ 
therly affection—and a humorous desire 
to create a sensation—prompted him to 
walk in and surprise them. But saner 
second thoughts prevailed; he decided to 
postpone the reunion until he should have 
changed from the picturesque costume of 
Tony, to the soberer garb of Jerry Junior. 

216 





Jerry Junior 

He skirted the dining-room by a wide 
detour, and entered the court-yard at the 
side. Gustavo, who for the last hour and 
a half had been alertly watchful of four 
entrances at once, pounced upon him and 
drew him to a corner. 

“Signore,” in a conspiratorial whisper, 
“zay are come, ze aunt and ze sister.” 

“I know—the Signorina Constantina 
told me so.” 

Gustavo blinked. 

“But, signore, she does not know it.” 

“Yes, she does—she saw ’em herself.” 

“I mean, signore, she does not know 
zat you are ze brover?” 

“Oh, no, she does n’t know that.” 

“But she tell me zat she is acquaint wif 
ze brover for six years.” He shook his 
head hopelessly. 

“That ’s all right.” Tony patted his 
shoulder reassuringly. “When she knew 
me I used to have yellow hair, but I 
thought it made me look too girlish, so I 
had it dyed black. She did n’t recog¬ 
nize me.” 


13 


217 


Jerry Junior 

Gustavo accepted the explanation with 
a side glance at the hair. 

“Now, pay attention/' Tony's tone 
was slow and distinct. 

“I am going upstairs to change my 
clothes. Then I will slip out the back way 
with a suit case, and go down the road and 
meet the omnibus as it comes back from 
the boat landing. You keep my aunt and 
sister in the court-yard talking to the 
parrot or something until the omnibus ar¬ 
rives. Then when I get out, you come for¬ 
ward with your politest bow and ask me if 
I want a room. I '11 attend to the rest—do 
you understand?" 

Gustavo nodded with glistening eyes. 
He had always felt stirring within him 
powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he 
rose to the occasion magnificently. 

Tony turned away and went bounding 
upstairs two steps at a time, chuckling as 
he went. He, too, was developing an un¬ 
dreamed of appetite for intrigue, and his 
capacity in that direction was expanding 
to meet it. He had covered the first flight, 
218 


Jerry Junior 

when Gustavo suddenly remembered the 
letter and bounded after. 

“Signore! I beg of you to wait one mo¬ 
ment. Here is a letter from ze signorina; 
it is come while you are away.” 

Tony read the address with a start of 
surprise. 

“Then she knows!” There was regret, 
disillusionment, in his tone. 

It was Gustavo’s turn to furnish 
enlightenment. 

“But no, signore, she do not compre¬ 
hend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyar 
is ze brover who is not arrive. She leave 
it for him when he come.” 

“Ah!” Tony ripped it open and read it 
through with a chuckle. He read it a sec¬ 
ond time and his face grew grave. He 
thrust it into his pocket and strode away 
without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo 
looked after him reproachfully. As a head 
waiter, he naturally did not expect to read 
the letters of guests; but as a fellow con¬ 
spirator, he felt that he was entitled to at 
least a general knowledge of all matters 
219 


Jerry Junior 

bearing on the conspiracy. He turned 
back down stairs with a disappointed 
droop to his shoulders. 

Tony closed his door and walked to the 
window where he stood staring at the roof 
of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from 
his pocket and read it for the third time 
slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. 
The reason was clear; she was tired of 
Tony and was looking ahead for fresh 
worlds to conquer. Jerry Junior was to 
come next. 

He understood why she had been so 
complaisant today. She wished the cur¬ 
tain to go down on the comedy note. To¬ 
morrow, the nameless young American, 
the “Abraham Lincoln” of the register, 
would call—by the gate—would be re¬ 
ceived graciously, introduced in his proper 
person to the guests; the story of the 
donkey-man would be recounted and 
laughed over, and he would be politely 
asked when he was planning to resume his 
travels. This would be the end of the epi¬ 
sode. To Constance, it had been merely 


220 


Jerry Junior 

an amusing farce about which she could 
boast when she returned to America. In 
her vivacious style it would make a story, 
just as her first meeting with Jerry Junior 
had made a story. But as for the play it¬ 
self, for him, she cared nothing. Tony 
the man had made no impression. He 
must pass on and give place to Jerry 
Junior. 

A flush crept over Tony’s face and his 
mouth took a straighter line as he con¬ 
tinued to gaze down on the roof of Villa 
Rosa. His reflections were presently in¬ 
terrupted by a knock. He turned and 
threw the door open with a fling. 

“Well?” he inquired. 

Gustavo took a step backward. 

“Scusi, signore, but zay are eating ze 
dessart and in five—ten minutes ze omni¬ 
bus will arrive.” 

“The omnibus?” Tony stared. “Oh!” 
he laughed shortly. “I was just joking, 
Gustavo.” 

Gustavo bowed and turned down the 
corridor; there was a look on Tony’s face 


221 


Jerry Junior 

that did not encourage confidences. He 
had not gone half a dozen steps, however, 
when the door opened again and Tony 
called him back. 

“I am going away tomorrow morning 
—by the first boat this time—and you 
must n't let my aunt and sister know. I 
will write two letters and you are to take 
them down to the steward of the boat that 
leaves tonight. Ask him to put on Aus¬ 
trian stamps and mail them at Riva, so 
they 'll get back here tomorrow. Do you 
understand?" 

Gustavo nodded and backed away. His 
disappointment this time was too keen for 
words. He saw stretching before him a 
future like the past, monotonously bereft 
of plots and masquerades. 

Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down 
and put it into instant execution. Open¬ 
ing his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and 
picked out the first hotel that was men¬ 
tioned. Then he wrote two letters, both 
short and to the point; he indulged in none 
of Constance's vacillations, and yet in 


222 


Jerry Junior 

their way his letters also were master¬ 
pieces of illusion. The first was addressed 
to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. 
It ran: 


“Hotel Sole d’Oro, 

“Riva, Austria. 

“Dear Miss Wilder: Nothing would give 
me greater pleasure than spending a few days 
in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed 
for time, and am engaged to start Thursday 
morning with some friends on a trip through 
the Dolomites. 

“Trusting that I may have the pleasure of 
making your acquaintance at some future date, 
“Yours truly, 

“Jermyn Hilliard, Jr.” 

The second letter was addressed to his 
sister, but he trusted to luck that Con¬ 
stance would see it. It ran: 

“Hotel Sole d’Oro, 

“Riva, Austria. 

“Dear Nan: Who in thunder is Constance 
Wilder? She wants us to stop and make a 
223 


Jerry Junior 

visit in Valedolmo. I would n’t step into that 
infernal town, not if the king himself invited 
me—it ’s the deadest hole on the face of the 
earth. You can stay if you like and I ’ll go on 
through the Dolomites alone. There ’s an 
American family stopping here who are also 
planning the trip—a stunning girl; I know 
you ’d like her. 

“Of course the travelling will be pretty 
rough. Perhaps you and Aunt Kate would 
rather visit your friends and meet me later in 
Munich. If you decide to take the trip, you 
will have to come on down to Riva as soon as 
you get this letter, as we ’re planning to pull 
out Thursday morning. 

“Sorry to hurry you, but you know my va¬ 
cation does n’t last forever. 

“Love to Aunt Kate and yourself, 

“Yours ever, 

“Jerry.” 

He turned the letters over to Gustavo 
with a five-franc note, leaving Gustavo to 
decide with his own conscience whether 
the money was intended for himself or 
the steward of the Regina Margarita. 
This accomplished, he slipped out unobtru- 
224 


Jerry Junior 

sively and took the road toward Villa 
Rosa. 

He strode along with his hands in his 
pockets and his eyes on the path until he 
nearly bumped his nose against the villa 
gate-post. Then he stopped and thought. 
He had no mind to be ushered to the ter¬ 
race where he would have to dissemble 
some excuse for his visit before Miss 
Hazel and Mr. Wilder. His business to¬ 
night was with Constance, and Constance 
alone. He turned and skirted the villa 
wall, determined on reconnoitering first. 
There was a place in the wall—he knew 
well—where the stones were missing, and 
a view was obtainable of the terrace and 
parapet. 

He reached the place to find Lieutenant 
Carlo di Ferara already there. Now the 
Lieutenant’s purpose was exactly as inno¬ 
cent as Tony’s own; he merely wished to 
assure himself that Captain Coroloni was 
not before him. It was considered a joke 
at the tenth cavalry mess to detail one or 
the other of the officers to call on the 
225 


Jerry Junior 

Americans at the same time that Lieuten¬ 
ant di Ferara called. He was not spying 
on the family, merely on his meddling 
brother officers. 

Tony of course could know nothing of 
this, and as his eyes fell upon the lieuten¬ 
ant, there was apparent in their depths a 
large measure of contempt. A lieutenant 
in the Royal Italian Cavalry can afford to 
be generous in many things, but he cannot 
afford to swallow contempt from a 
donkey-driver. The signorina was not 
present this time; there was no reason why 
he should not punish the fellow. He 
dropped his hand on Tony’s shoulder—on 
his collar to be exact—and whirled him 
about. The action was accompanied by 
some vigorous colloquial Italian—the gist 
of it being that Tony was to mind his own 
business and mend his manners. The lieu¬ 
tenant had a muscular arm, and Tony 
turned. But Tony had not played quarter¬ 
back four years for nothing; he tackled 
low, and the next moment the lieutenant 
was rolling down the bank of a dried 
stream that stretched at their feet. No 
226 


Jerry Junior 

one likes to roll down a dusty stony bank, 
much less an officer in immaculate uniform 
on the eve of paying a formal call upon 
ladies. He picked himself up and looked 
at Tony; he was quite beyond speech. 

Tony looked back and smiled. He swept 
off his hat with a deferential bow. 
“Scusi” he murmured, and jumped over 
the wall into the grounds of Villa Rosa. 

The lieutenant gasped. If anything 
could have been more insultingly inade¬ 
quate to the situation than that one word 
scusi , it did not at the moment occur to 
him. Jeering, blasphemy, vituperation, he 
might have excused, but this! The shock 
jostled him back to a thinking state. 

Here was no ordinary donkey-driver. 
The hand that had rested for a moment on 
his arm was the hand of a gentleman. 
The man’s face was vaguely, elusively 
familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him 
before, he had at least seen his picture. 
The man had pretended he could not talk 
Italian, but— scusi —it came out very pat 
when it was needed. 

An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di 
227 


Jerry Junior 

Ferara. He scrambled up the bank and 
skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he 
reached the place where his horse was 
tied. Two minutes later he was off at a 
gallop, headed for the house of the prefect 
of police of Valedolmo. 


228 


CHAPTER XVI 



ONY jumped over the wall. 
He might have landed in the 
midst of a family party; but in 
so much luck was with him. 
He found the Farfalla bobbing at the foot 
of the water steps with Mr. Wilder and 
Miss Hazel already embarked. They were 
waiting for Constance, who had obligingly 
run back to the house to fetch the rainbow 
shawl (finished that afternoon) as Miss 
Hazel distrusted the Italian night breeze. 

Constance stepped out from the door as 
Tony emerged from the bushes. She re¬ 
garded him in startled surprise; he was 
still in some slight disarray from his en¬ 
counter with the lieutenant. 

“May I speak to you, Miss Wilder? I 
won’t detain you but a moment.” 

She nodded and kept on, her heart 
thumping absurdly. He had received the 
229 







Jerry Junior 

letter of course; and there would be conse¬ 
quences. She paused at the top of the 
water steps. 

“You go on," she called to the others, 
“and pick me up on your way back. Tony 
wants to see me about something, and I 
don't like to keep Mrs. Eustace and Nan¬ 
nie waiting." 

Giuseppe pushed off and Constance was 
left standing alone on the water steps. 
She turned as Tony approached; there 
was a touch of defiance in her manner. 

“Well?" 

He came to her side and leaned care¬ 
lessly against the parapet, his eyes on the 
Farfalla as she tossed and dipped in the 
wash of the Regina Margarita which was 
just puffing out from the village landing. 
Constance watched him, slightly taken 
aback; she had expected him to be angry, 
sulky, reproachful—certainly not noncha¬ 
lant. When he finally brought his eyes 
from the water, his expression was mildly 
melancholy. 

“Signorina, I have come to say good 
230 


Jerry Junior 

bye. It is very sad, but tomorrow, I 
too—” he waved his hand toward the 
steamer—“shall be a passenger.” 

“You are going away from Vale- 
dolmo ?” 

He nodded. 

“Unfortunately, yes. I should like to 
stay, but—” he shrugged— “life is n't all 
play, Miss Wilder. Though one would 
like to be a donkey-man forever, one only 
may be for a summer's holiday. I am your 
debtor for a unique and pleasant experi¬ 
ence.” 

She studied his face without speaking. 
Did it mean that he had got the letter and 
was hurt, or did it perhaps mean that he 
had got the letter and did not care to ap¬ 
pear as Jerry Junior? That he enjoyed 
the play so long as he could remain incog¬ 
nito and stop it where he pleased, but that 
he had no mind to let it drift into reality? 
Very possibly it meant— she flushed at the 
thought—that he divined Nannie's plot, 
and refused also to consider the fourth 
candidate. 


23 1 


Jerry Junior 

She laughed and dropped into their 
usual jargon. 

“And the young American man, Signor 
Abraham Lincoln, will he come tomorrow 
for tea?” 

“Ah, signorina, he is desolated, but it 
is not possible. He has received a letter 
and he must go; he has stopped too long in 
Valedolmo. Tomorrow morning early, he 
and I togever, we sail away to Austria.” 
His eyes went back to the trail of smoke 
left by the little steamer. 

“And Costantina, Tony. You are leav¬ 
ing her behind ?” It took some courage to 
put this question, but she did not flinch; 
she put it with a laugh which contained 
nothing but raillery. 

Tony sighed—a deep melodramatic sigh 
—and laid his hand on his heart. 

“Ah, signorina, zat Costantina, she has 
not any heart. She love one man one day, 
anozzer ze next. I go away to forget.” 

His eyes dropped to hers; for an instant 
the mocking light died out; a questioning, 
wounded look took its place. 

232 



Jerry Junior 

She felt a quick impulse to hold out her 
hands, to say, “Jerry, don't go!" If she 
only knew! Was he going because he 
thought that she wished to dismiss him, or 
because he wished to dismiss himself ? 
Was it pique that bade him carry the play 
to the end, or was it merely the desire to 
get out of an awkward situation grace¬ 
fully? 

She stood hesitating, scanning the ter¬ 
race pavement with troubled eyes; when 
she raised them to his face the chance was 
gone. He straightened his shoulders with 
an air of finality and picked up his hat 
from the balustrade. 

“Some day, signorina, in New York, 
perhaps I play a little tune underneaf your 
window." 

She nodded and smiled. 

“I will give the monkey a penny when 
he comes—good-bye." 

He bowed over her hand and touched it 
lightly to his lips. 

“Signorina, addio!” 

As he strode away into the dusky lane 

14 233 


Jerry Junior 

of cypresses, she heard him whistling 
softly “Santa Lucia.” It was the last 
stroke, she reflected, angrily; he might at 
least have omitted that! She turned away 
and dropped down on the water steps to 
wait for the Farfalla. The terrace, the 
lake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly 
seemed deserted and empty. Before she 
knew it was coming, she had leaned her 
head against the balustrade with a deep 
sob. She caught herself sharply. She to 
sit there crying, while Tony went 
whistling on his way! 

As the Farfalla drifted idly over the 
water, Constance sat in the stern, her chin 
in her hand, moodily gazing at the shim¬ 
mering path of moonlight. But no one ap¬ 
peared to notice her silence, since Nannie 
was talking enough for both. And the 
only thing she talked about was Jerry 
Junior, how funny and clever and charm¬ 
ing he was, how phenomenally good—for 
a man; when she showed signs of stop¬ 
ping, Mr. Wilder by a question started her 
234 


Jerry Junior 

on. It seemed to Constance an inter¬ 
minable two hours before they dropped 
their guests in the garden of the Hotel du 
Lac, and headed again for Villa Rosa. 

As they approached their own water 
steps it became apparent that someone—a 
man—was standing at the top in an atti¬ 
tude of expectancy. Constance's heart 
gave a sudden bound and the next instant 
sank deep. A babble of frenzied greetings 
floated out to meet them; there was no 
mistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was 
no mistaking the fact that he was excited; 
his excitement was contagious even before 
they had learned the reason. He stuttered 
in his impatience to share the news. 

"Signore! Dio mio /, A calamity has 
happened. Zat Tony, zat donk'-man! he 
has got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a 
lie, zat he is American citizen; he is an 
officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. 
Zay say he just pretend he cannot spik 
Italian—but it is not true. He know ten 
—leven words." 

They came hurrying up the steps and 
235 


Jerry Junior 

surrounded him, Mr. Wilder no less 
shocked than Gustavo himself. 

“Arrested—as a deserter? It’s an out¬ 
rage!” he thundered. 

Constance laid her hand on Gustavo’s 
sleeve and whirled him about. 

“What do you mean? I don’t under¬ 
stand. Where is Tony?” 

Gustavo groaned. 

“In jail, signorina. Four carabinieri 
are come to take him away. And he fight 
—Dio mio! he fight like ze devil. But zay 
put—” he indicated handcuffs— “and 
he go.” 

Constance dropped down on the upper 
step and leaning her head against the bal¬ 
ustrade, she laughed until she was weak. 

Her father whirled upon her indig¬ 
nantly. 

“Constance! Have n’t you any sym¬ 
pathy for the man ? This is n’t a laughing 
matter.” 

“I know, Dad, but it’s so funny—Tony 
an Italian officer! He can’t pronounce the 
ten—leven words he does know right.” 
236 


Jerry Junior 

“Of course he can’t; he does n’t know as 
much Italian as I do. Can’t these fools tell 
an American citizen when they see one? 
I ’ll teach ’em to go about chucking Amer¬ 
ican citizens in jail. I ’ll telegraph the 
consul in Milan; I ’ll make an international 
matter of it!” 

He fumed up and down the terrace, 
while Constance rose to her feet and fol¬ 
lowed after with a pretense at pacification. 

“Hush, Dad! Don’t be so excitable. It 
was a very natural mistake for them to 
make. But if Tony is really what he says 
he is it will be very easily proved. You 
must be sure of your ground though, be¬ 
fore you act. I don’t like to say anything 
against poor Tony now that he is in 
trouble, but I have always felt that there 
was a mystery connected with him. For 
all we know he may be a murderer or a 
brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. 
We only have his word you know that he 
is an American citizen.” 

“His word!” Mr. Wilder fairly ex¬ 
ploded. “Are you utterly blind? He ’s 
237 


Jerry Junior 

exactly as much an American citizen as I 
am. He ’s—” He stopped and fanned 
himself furiously. He had sworn never to 
betray Tony’s secret, and yet, the present 
situation was exceptionable. 

Constance patted him on the arm. 

“There, Dad. I have n’t a doubt his 
story is true. He was born in Budapest, 
and he’s a naturalized American citizen. 
It’s the duty of the United States Govern¬ 
ment to protect him—but it won’t be diffi¬ 
cult; I dare say he ’s got his naturaliza¬ 
tion papers with him. A word in the 
morning will set everything straight.” 

“Leave him in jail all night?” 

“But you can’t do anything now; it ’s 
after ten o’clock; the authorities have 
gone to bed.” 

She turned to Gustavo; her tone was re¬ 
assuring. 

“In the morning we ’ll get some Ameri¬ 
can war-ships to bombard the jail.” 

“Signorina, you joke!” His tone was 
reproachful. 

She suddenly looked anxious. 

238 


Jerry Junior 

“Gustavo, is the jail strong?” 

“Ver’ strong, signorina.” 

“He can’t escape and get over into Aus¬ 
tria? We are very near the frontier, you 
know.” 

“No, signorina, it is impossible.” He 
shook his head hopelessly. 

Constance laughed and slipped her hand 
through her father’s arm. 

“Come, Dad. The first thing in the 
morning we ’ll go down to the jail and 
cheer him up. There ’s not the slightest 
use in worrying any more tonight. It 
won’t hurt Tony to be kept in—er—cold 
storage for a few hours—I think on the 
whole it will do him good!” 

She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and 
drew her father, still muttering, toward 
the house. 


239 


CHAPTER XVII 



ERRY JUNIOR'S letter of re¬ 
gret arrived from Riva on the 
early mail. In the light of 
Constance's effusively cordial 
invitation, the terse formality of his reply 
was little short of rude; but Constance 
read between the lines and was appeased. 
The writer, plainly, was angry, and anger 
was a much more becoming emotion than 
nonchalance. As she set out with her 
father toward the village jail, she was 
again buoyantly in command of the situa¬ 
tion. She carried a bunch of oleanders, 
and the pink and white egg basket swung 
from her arm. Their way led past the 
gate of the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, 
being under the impression that he was en¬ 
joying a very good joke all by himself, 
could not forego the temptation of stop¬ 
ping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nan- 
240 






Jerry Junior 

nie had heard any news of the prodigal. 
They found the two at breakfast in the 
courtyard, an open letter spread before 
them. Nannie received them with lamen¬ 
tations. 

“We can't come to the villa! Here's a 
letter from Jerry wanting us to start im¬ 
mediately for the Dolomites—did you ever 
know anything so exasperating?" 

She passed the letter to Constance, and 
then as she remembered the first sentence, 
made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It 
was too late; Constance's eyes had already 
pounced upon it. She read it aloud with 
gleeful malice. 

“ 'Who in thunder is Constance Wil¬ 
der?'—If that's an example of the famous 
Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to 
meet him, thank you. — It's worse than his 
last insult; I shall never forgive this!" 
She glanced down the page and handed it 
back with a laugh; from her point of 
vantage it was naively transparent. From 
.Mr. Wilder's point, however, the contents 
were inscrutable; he looked from the letter 
241 


Jerry Junior 

to his daughter’s serene smile, and re¬ 
lapsed into a puzzled silence. 

“I should say on the contrary, that he 
does n’t want you to start immediately for 
the Dolomites,” Constance observed. 

“It’s a girl,” Nannie groaned. “I sus¬ 
pected it from the moment we got the tele¬ 
gram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let 
that wretched boy get out of my sight ?” 

“I dare say she ’s horrid,” Constance 
put in. “One meets such frightful Ameri¬ 
cans traveling.” 

“We will go up to Riva on the afternoon 
boat and investigate.” It was Mrs. Eu¬ 
stace who spoke. There was an undertone 
in her voice which suggested that she was 
prepared to do her duty by her brother’s 
son, however unpleasant that duty 
might be. 

“American girls are so grasping,” said 
Nannie plaintively. “It ’s scarcely safe 
for an unattached man to go out alone.” 

Mr. Wilder leaned forward and re¬ 
examined the letter. 

“By the way, Miss Nannie, how did 
242 


Jerry Junior 

Jerry learn that you were here? His let¬ 
ter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o’clock 
last night.” 

Nannie examined the post mark. 

“I had n’t thought of that! How could 
he have found out—unless that beast of a 
head waiter telegraphed? What does it 
mean ?” 

Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and 
raised his shoulders. “You ’ve got me!” 
A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed 
over his face; he turned to his daughter 
with what was meant to be a carelessly 
off-hand manner. “Er—Constance, while 
I think of it, you did n’t discharge Tony 
again yesterday, did you?” 

Constance opened her eyes. 

“Discharge Tony? Why should I do 
that? He is n’t working for me.” 

“You were n’t rude to him?” 

“Father, am I ever rude to anyone?” 

Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again 
and shook his head. “There’s something 
mighty fishy about this whole business. 
When you get hold of that brother of 
243 


Jerry Junior 

yours again, my dear young woman, you 
make him tell what he ’s been up to this 
week—and make him tell the truth.” 

“Mr. Wilder!” Nannie was reproach¬ 
ful. “You don’t know Jerry; he’s incap¬ 
able of telling anything but the truth.” 

Constance tittered. 

“What are you laughing at, Con¬ 
stance?” 

“Nothing—only it ’s so funny. Why 
don’t you advertise for him? Lost—a 
young man, age twenty-eight, height, five 
feet eleven, weight one hundred and sev¬ 
enty pounds, dark hair, gray eyes, slight 
scar over left eye brow; dressed when last 
seen in double breasted blue serge suit and 
brown russet shoes. Finder please return 
to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal re¬ 
ward.” 

“He is n’t lost,” said Nannie. “We 
know where he is perfectly; he ’s at the 
Hotel Sole d’ Oro in Riva, and that ’s at 
the other end of the lake. We ’re going up 
on the afternoon boat to join him.” 

“Oh!” said Constance, meekly. 

244 


Jerry Junior 

“You take my advice/’ Mr. Wilder put 
in. “Go up to Riva if you must—it ’s a 
pleasant trip—but leave your luggage 
here. See this young man in person and 
bring him back with you; tell him we have 
just as good mountains as he ’ll find in 
the Dolomites. If by any chance you 
should n’t find him—” 

“Of course, we ’ll find him!” said 
Nannie. 

Constance looked troubled. 

“Don’t go, it’s quite a long trip. Write 
instead and give the letter to Gustavo; 
he ’ll give it to the boat steward who 
will deliver it personally. Then if Jerry 
should n’t be there—” 

Nannie was losing her patience. 

“Should n’t be there? But he says he’s 
there.” 

“Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, 
you know, Nannie, / don’t believe there 
really is any such person as Jerry Junior! 
I think he’s a myth.” 

Gustavo had been hanging about the 
gate looking anxiously up the road as if 
245 


Jerry Junior 

he expected something to happen. His 
brow cleared suddenly as a boy on a 
bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy 
whirled into the court and dismounted; 
glancing dubiously from one to the other 
of the group, he finally presented his tele¬ 
gram to Gustavo, who passed it on to 
Nannie. She ripped it open and ran her 
eyes over the contents. 

“Can anyone tell me the meaning of 
this ? It’s Italian!” She spread it on the 
table while the three bent over it in puzzled 
wonder. 

“Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva 
stei in Valedolmo geri.” 

Constance was the first to grasp the 
meaning; she read it twice and laughed. 

“That ’s not Italian; it’s English, only 
the operator has spelt it phonetically—I 
begin to believe there is a Jerry,” she 
added, “no one could cause such a bother 
who did n’t exist.” She picked up the slip 
and translated: 

“ ‘Changed my mind. Do not come to 
Riva; stay in Valedolmo. Jerry.’ ” 

246 


Jerry Junior 

“I ’m a clairvoyant you see. I told you 
he would n’t be there!” 

“But where is he?” Nannie wailed. 

Constance and her father glanced tenta¬ 
tively at each other and were silent. Gus¬ 
tavo who had been hanging officiously in 
the rear, approached and begged their par¬ 
don. 

“Scusi, signora, but I sink I can ex¬ 
plain. Ecco! Ze telegram is dated from 
Limone—zat is a village close by here on 
ze ozzer side of ze lake. He is gone on a 
walking trip, ze yong man, of two—tree 
days wif an Englishman who is been in 
zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he 
would not go. But patience, he will come 
back. Oh, yes, in a little while, after one 
—two day he come back.” 

“What is the man talking about?” Mrs. 
Eustace was both indignant and bewil¬ 
dered. “Jerry was in Riva yesterday at 
the Hotel Sole d’ Oro. How can he be on 
a walking trip at the other end of the lake 
today?” 

“You don’t suppose—” Nannie’s voice 
247 


Jerry Junior 

was tragic—“that he has eloped with that 
American girl?” 

“Good heavens, my dear!” Mrs. Eu¬ 
stace appealed to Mr. Wilder. “What are 
the laws in this dreadful country? Don’t 
banns or something have to be published 
three weeks before the ceremony can take 
place?” 

Mr. Wilder rose hastily. 

“Yes, yes, dear lady. It’s impossible; 
don’t consider any such catastrophe for a 
moment. Come, Constance, I really think 
we ought to be going.—Er, you see, Mrs. 
Eustace, you can’t believe—that is, don’t 
let anything Gustavo says trouble you. 
With all respect for his many fine quali¬ 
ties, he has not Jerry’s regard for truth. 
And don’t bother any more about the boy; 
he will turn up in a day or so. He may 
have written some letters of explanation 
that you have n’t got. These foreign 
mails—” He edged toward the gate. 

Constance followed him and then turned 
back. 

“We ’re on our way to the jail,” she 
248 


Jerry Junior 

said, “to visit our donkey-driver who has 
managed to get himself arrested. While 
we ’re there we can make inquiries if you 
like; it ’s barely possible that they might 
have got hold of Jerry on some false 
charge or other. These foreign jails—” 
“Constance!” said Nannie reproach¬ 
fully. 

“Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of 
course it ’s impossible. Good bye.” She 
nodded and laughed and ran after her 
father. 


15 


249 


CHAPTER XVIII 


F one must go to jail at all one 
could scarcely choose a more 
entertaining jail than that of 
Valedolmo. It occupies a 
structure which was once a palace; and its 
cells, planned for other purposes, are spa¬ 
cious. But its most gratifying feature, to 
one forcibly removed from social inter¬ 
course, is its outlook. The windows com¬ 
mand the Piazza Garibaldi, which is the 
social center of the town; it contains the 
village post, the fountain, the tobacco 
shop, the washing-trough, and the two 
rival cafes, the “Independenza” and the 
“Liberta.” The piazza is always dirty and 
noisy—that goes without saying—but .on 
Wednesday morning at nine o’clock, it is 
peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is 
Valedolmo’s market day, and the square is 
so cluttered with booths and huxters and 



250 






Jerry Junior 

anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedes- 
trian can scarcely wedge his way through. 
The noise moreover is deafening; above 
the cries of vendors and buyers, rises a 
shriller chorus of bleating kids and squeal- 
ing pigs and braying donkeys. 

Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of 
temper, pushed through the crowd with 
little ceremony, prodding on the right with 
his umbrella, on the left with his fan, and 
using his elbows vigorously. Constance, 
serenely cool, followed in his wake, nod¬ 
ding here and there to a chance acquaint¬ 
ance, smiling on everyone; the spectacle 
to her held always fresh interest. An 
image vendor close at her elbow insisted 
that she should buy a Madonna and Bam- 
bina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San 
Giuseppe for twenty-five. To her father’s 
disgust she bought them both, and pre¬ 
sented them to two wide-eyed children 
who in bashful fascination were dogging 
their footsteps. 

The appearance of the foreigners in the 
piazza caused such a ripple of interest, 

251 


Jerry Junior 

that for a moment the bargaining was sus¬ 
pended. When the two mounted the steps 
of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of 
the bystanders as the steps would accom¬ 
modate mounted with them. Nobody an¬ 
swered the first ring, and Constance pulled 
again with a force which sent a jangle of 
bells echoing through the interior. After 
a second's wait—snortingly impatient on 
Mr. Wilder’s part; he was being pressed 
close by the none too clean citizens of 
Valedolmo—the door was opened a very 
small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her 
eye fell first upon the crowd, and she was 
disposed to close it again; but in the act 
she caught sight of the Signorina Ameri¬ 
cana dressed in white, smiling above a 
bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened 
with astonishment. It was long since such 
an apparition had presented itself at that 
door. She dropped a courtesy and the 
crack widened. 

“Your commands, signorina?” 

“We wish to come in.” 

“But it is against the orders. Friday is 
252 



and jerked the bell ” 


















































Jerry Junior 

visiting-day at thirteen o'clock. If the 
signorina had a permesso from the sin- 
daco, why then—” 

The signorina shook her head and 
shrugged her shoulders. She had no per¬ 
messo and it was too much trouble to get 
one. Besides, the sindaco’s office did n't 
open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; 
there was a shining two-franc piece in her 
hand. Perhaps the jailoress would allow 
them to step inside away from the crowd 
and she would explain? 

This sounded reasonable; the door 
opened farther and they squeezed 
through. It banged in the faces of the dis¬ 
appointed spectators, who lingered hope¬ 
fully a few moments longer, and then re¬ 
turned to their bargaining. Inside the big 
damp stone-walled corridor Constance 
drew a deep breath and smiled upon the 
jailoress; the jailoress smiled back. Then 
as a preliminary skirmish, Constance pre¬ 
sented the two-franc piece; and the jailor¬ 
ess dropped a courtesy. 

“We have heard that Antonio, our 

255 


Jerry Junior 

donkey-driver, has been arrested for de¬ 
serting from the army and we have come 
to find out about it. My father, the sig¬ 
nore here—” she waved her hand toward 
Mr. Wilder—“likes Antonio very much 
and is quite sure that it is a mistake.” 

The woman's mouth hardened; she 
nodded with emphasis. 

“Gia. We have him, the man Antonio, 
if that is his name. He may not be the de¬ 
serter they search—I do not know—but if 
he is not the deserter he is something else. 
You should have heard him last night, sig- 
* norina, when they brought him in. The 
things he said! They were in a foreign 
tongue; I did not understand, but I felt . 
Also he kicked my husband—kicked him 
quite hard so that he limps today. And 
the way he orders us about! You would 
think he were a prince in his own palace 
and we were his servants. Nothing is 
good enough for him. He objected to the 
room we gave him first because it smelt of 
the cooking. He likes butter with his 
bread and hot milk with his cofifee. He 
256 


Jerry Junior 

cannot smoke the cigars which my hus¬ 
band bought for him, and they cost three 
soldi apiece. And this morning—” her 
voice rose shrilly as she approached the 
climax—“he called for a bath. It is true, 
signorina, a bath. Dio mio, he wished me 
to carry the entire village fountain to his 
room!” 

“Not really ?” Constance opened her 
eyes in shocked surprise. “But surely, 
signora, you did not do it ?” 

The woman blinked. 

“It would be impossible, signorina,” she 
contented herself with saying. 

Constance, with grave concern, trans¬ 
lated the sum of Tony’s enormities to her 
father; and turned back to the jailoress 
apologetically. 

“My father is very much grieved that 
the man should have caused you so much 
trouble. But he says, that if we could see 
him, we could persuade him to be more 
reasonable. We talk his language, and 
can make him understand.” 

The woman winked meaningly. 

257 


Jerry Junior 

“Eh—he pretends he cannot talk Ital¬ 
ian, but he understands enough to ask for 
what he wishes. I think—and the Signor- 
Lieutenant who ordered his arrest thinks 
—that he is shamming.” 

“It was a lieutenant who ordered his 
arrest ? Do you remember his name—was 
it Carlo di Ferara?” 

“It might have been.” Her face was 
vague. 

“Of the cavalry?” 

“Si, signorina, of the cavalry—and very 
handsome.” 

Constance laughed. “Well, the plot 
thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony’s 
hearing this afternoon, and put it tact¬ 
fully to our friend the lieutenant that we 
don’t like to have our donkey-man 
snatched away without our permission.” 
She turned back to the jailoress. “And 
now, where is the man? We should like 
to speak with him.” 

“It is against the orders, but perhaps— 
I have already permitted the head waiter 
from the Hotel du Lac to carry him news¬ 
papers and cigarettes. He says that the 
258 


Jerry Junior 

man Antonio is in reality an American 
nobleman from New York who merely 
plays at being a donkey-driver for diver¬ 
sion, and that unless he is set at liberty 
immediately a ship will come with can¬ 
non, but—we all know Gustavo, signo- 
rina.” 

Constance nodded and laughed. 

“You have reason! We all know Gus¬ 
tavo—may we go right up?” 

The jailoress called the jailor. They 
talked aside; the two-franc piece was pro¬ 
duced as evidence. The jailor with a 
great show of caution got out a bunch of 
keys and motioned them to follow. Up 
two flights and down a long corridor with 
peeling frescoes on the walls—nymphs 
and cupids and garlands of roses; most in¬ 
congruous decorations for a jail—at last 
they paused before a heavy oak door. 
Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore 
softly as each failed to turn, and finally 
with an exclamation of triumph produced 
the right one. He swung the door wide 
and stepped back with a bow. 

A large room was revealed, brick- 
259 


Jerry Junior 

floored and somewhat scanty as to furni¬ 
ture, but with a view—an admirable view, 
if one did not mind its being checked off 
into iron squares. The most conspicuous 
object in the room, however, was its oc¬ 
cupant, as he sat, in an essentially Ameri¬ 
can attitude, with his chair tipped back 
and his feet on the table. A cloud of 
tobacco smoke and a wide spread copy of a 
New York paper concealed him from too 
impertinent gaze. He did not raise his 
head at the sound of the opening door but 
contented himself with growling: 

“Confound your impudence! You 
might at least knock before you come 
in.” 

Constance laughed and advanced a hesi¬ 
tating step across the threshold. Tony 
dropped his paper and sprang to his feet, 
his face assuming a shade of pink only less 
vivid than the oleanders. She shook her 
head sorrowfully. 

“I don’t need to tell you, Tony, how 
shocked we are to find you in such a place. 
Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had 
260 


Jerry Junior 

not supposed we were harboring a de¬ 
serter.” 

Mr. Wilder stepped forward and held 
out his hand; there was a twinkle in his 
eye which he struggled manfully to sup¬ 
press. 

“Nonsense, Tony, we don’t believe a 
word of it. You a deserter from the Ital¬ 
ian army? It’s preposterous! Where are 
your naturalization papers?” 

“Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don’t 
happen to have my papers with me—I 
trust it won’t be necessary to produce 
them. You see—” his glance rested 
entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously 
overlooked Constance’s presence—“this 
Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, 
got into a quarrel over a gambling debt 
and struck a superior officer. To avoid 
being court-martialed he lit out; it hap¬ 
pened a month ago in Milan and they ’ve 
been looking for him ever since. Now last 
night I had, the misfortune to tip Lieuten¬ 
ant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The 
matter was entirely accidental and I re- 
261 


Jerry Junior 

gretted it very much. I, of course, apolo¬ 
gized. But what did the lieutenant do but 
take it into his head that I, being an as¬ 
saulter of superior officers, was, by a 
priori reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in dis¬ 
guise. Accordingly—” he waved his hand 
around the room—“you see me here.” 

“It ’s an imposition! Depriving an 
American citizen of his liberty on any such 
trumped-up charge as that! I 'll tele¬ 
graph the consul in Milan. I ’ll—” 

“Oh, don’t trouble. I ’ll get off this 
afternoon; they ’ve sent for someone to 
identify me, and if he does n’t succeed, I 
don’t see how they can hold me. In the 
meantime, I’m comfortable enough.” 

Mr. Wilder’s eye wandered about the 
room. “H’m, it is n’t bad for a jail! Got 
everything you need—tobacco, papers? 
What ’s this, New York Sun only ten 
days old?” He picked it up and plunged 
into the headlines. 

Constance turned from the window and 
glanced casually at Tony. 

“You did n’t go to Austria after all ?” 

262 


Jerry Junior 

“I was detained; I hope to get off to- 
morrow.” 

“Oh, before I forget it.” She removed 
the basket from her arm and set it on the 
table. “Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. 
I could n't remember whether one takes 
lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids—I've 
never known any prisoners before, you 
see. But anyway, I hope you 'll like it; 
Elizabetta made it.” 

He bowed stiffly. “I beg of you to con¬ 
vey my thanks to Elizabetta.” 

“Tony!” She lowered her voice to a 
conspiratorial whisper and glanced appre¬ 
hensively over her shoulder to see if the 
jailor were listening. “If by any chance 
they should identify you as that deserter, 
just get word to me and I will have Eliza¬ 
betta bake you a veal pasty with a rope 
ladder and a file inside. I would have had 
her bake it this morning, only Wednesday 
is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so 
awfully busy—” 

“This is your innings,” Tony rejoined 
somewhat sulkily. “I hope you 'll get all 
263 


Jerry Junior 

the entertainment you can out of the situa¬ 
tion/' 

“Thank you, Tony, that 's kind. Of 
course," she added with a plaintive note 
in her voice, “this must be tiresome for 
you; but it is a pleasant surprise for me. 
I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, 
at the thought that you were going to 
Austria and that I should never, never 
see you any more." 

“I wish I knew whether there 's any 
truth in that statement or not!" 

“Any truth! I realize well, that I might 
search the whole world over and never 
find another donkey-man who sings such 
beautiful tenor, who wears such lovely 
sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, 
Tony—" she took a step nearer and her 
face assumed a look of consternation. 
“You Ve lost your earrings!" 

He turned his back and walked to the 
window where he stood moodily staring 
at the market. Constance watched his 
squared shoulders dubiously out of the 
corner of her eye; then she glanced mo- 
264 


Jerry Junior 

mentarily into the hall where the jailor 
was visible, his face flattened against the 
bars of an open window; and from him to 
her father, still deep in the columns of his 
paper, oblivious to both time and place. 
She crossed to Tony and stood at his side 
peering down at the scene below. 

“I don’t suppose it will interest you,” 
she said in an off-hand tone, her eyes still 
intent on the crowd, "but I got a letter this 
morning from a young man who is stop¬ 
ping at the Sole d’ Oro in Riva—-a very 
rude letter I thought.” 

He whirled about. 

"You know!” 

"It struck me that the person who wrote 
it was in a temper and might afterwards 
be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and 
so—she raised her eyes momentarily to 
his— "the invitation is still open.” 

"Tell me,” there was both entreaty and 
command in his tone, "did you know the 
truth before you wrote that letter?” 

"You mean, did I know whom I was in¬ 
viting? Assuredly! Do you think it 
265 


Jerry Junior 

would have been dignified to write such an 
informal invitation to a person I did not 
know?” 

She turned away quickly and laid her 
hand on her father’s shoulder. 

“Come, Dad, don’t you think we ought 
to be going? Poor Tony wants to read 
the paper himself.” 

Mr. Wilder came back to the jail and 
his companions with a start. 

“Oh, eh, yes, I think perhaps we ought. 
If they don’t let you out this afternoon, 
Tony, I ’ll make matters lively for ’em, 
and if there ’s anything you need send 
word by Gustavo—I ’ll be back later.” 
He fished in his pockets and brought up 
a handful of cigars. “Here’s something 
better than lemon jelly, and they ’re not 
from the tobacco shop in Valedolmo 
either.” 

He dropped them on the table and 
turned toward the door; Constance fol¬ 
lowed with a backward glance. 

“Good-bye, Tony; don’t despair. Re¬ 
member that it ’s always darkest before 
266 


Jerry Junior 

the dawn, and that whatever others think, 
Costantina and I believe in you. We know 
that you are incapable of telling anything 
but the truth!’/ She had almost reached 
the door when she became aware of the 
flowers in her hand; she hurried back. 
“Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these with 
her—with—” She faltered; her audac¬ 
ity did not go quite that far. 

Tony reached for them. “With what?” 
he insisted. 

She laughed; and a second later the 
door closed behind her. He stood staring 
at the door till he heard the key turn in 
the lock, then he looked down at the 
flowers in his hand. A note was tied to 
the stems; his fingers trembled as he 
worked with the knot. 

“Caro Antonio mio,” it commenced; he 
could read that. “La sua Costantina ” it 
ended; he could read that. But between 
the two was an elusive, tantalizing hiatus. 
He studied it and put it in his pocket and 
took it out and studied it again. He was 
still puzzling over it half an hour later 
16 267 


Jerry Junior 

when Gustavo came to inquire if the sig¬ 
nore had need of anything. 

Had he need of anything! He sent 
Gustavo flying to the stationer's in search 
of an Italian-English dictionary. 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon and 
all the world—except Constance—was 
taking a siesta. The Farfalla, anchored 
at the foot of the water steps in a 
blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and 
down in drowsy harmony with the lapping 
waves; she was for the moment aban¬ 
doned, Giuseppe being engaged with a nap 
in the shade of the cypress trees at the end 
of the drive. He was so very engaged 
that he did not hear the sound of an ap¬ 
proaching carriage, until the horse was 
pulled to a sudden halt to avoid stepping 
on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to 
his feet and rubbed his eyes. He saw a 
gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed as 
for a wedding, in a frock coat and a white 
waistcoat, in shining hat and pearl gray 
gloves and a boutonniere of oleander. 
268 


Jerry Junior 

Having- paid the driver and dismissed the 
carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his 
pocket for his card-case. Giuseppe hurry¬ 
ing forward with a polite bow, stopped 
suddenly and blinked. He fancied that he 
must still be dreaming; he rubbed his eyes 
and stared again, but he found the second 
inspection more confounding than the 
first. The gentleman looked back imper¬ 
turbably, no slightest shade of recognition 
in his glance, unless a gleam of amusement 
far, far down in the depths of his eye 
might be termed recognition. He ex¬ 
tracted a card with grave deliberation 
and handed it to his companion. 

“Voglio vedere la Signorina Costan- 
tina,” he remarked. 

The tone, the foreign accent, were both 
reminiscent of many a friendly though 
halting conversation. Giuseppe stared 
again, appealingly, but the gentleman did 
not help him out; on the contrary he re¬ 
peated his request in a slightly sharpened 
tone. 

“Si, signore Giuseppe stammered. 
269 


Jerry Junior 

“Prego di verire. La signorina e nel giar- 
dino.” 

He started ahead toward the garden, 
looking behind at every third step to make 
sure that the gentleman was still follow¬ 
ing, that he was not merely a figment of 
his own sleepy senses. Their direction 
was straight toward the parapet where, 
on a historic wash-day, the signorina had 
sat beside a row of dangling stockings. 
She was sitting there now, dressed in 
white, the oleander tree above her head 
enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant 
shade. So occupied was she with a 
dreamy contemplation of the mountains 
across the lake that she did not hear foot¬ 
steps until Giuseppe paused before her and 
presented the card. She glanced from this 
to the visitor and extended a friendly 
hand. 

“Mr. Hilliard! Good afternoon/’ 

There was nothing of surprise in her 
greeting; evidently she did not find the 
visit extraordinary. Giuseppe stared, his 
mouth and eyes at their widest, until the 
270 


Jerry Junior 

signorina dismissed him; then he turned 
and walked back—staggered back almost 
—never before, not even late at night on 
Corpus Domini day, had he had such over¬ 
whelming reason to doubt his senses. 

Constance turned to the visitor and 
swept him with an appreciative glance, her 
eye lingering a second on the oleander in 
his buttonhole. 

“Perhaps you can tell me, is Tony out 
of jail? I am so anxious to know.” 

He shook his head. 

“Found guilty and sentenced for life; 
you ’ll never see him again.” 

“Ah; poor Tony! I shall miss him.” 

“I shall miss him too; we’ve had very 
good times together.” 

Constance suddenly became aware that 
her guest was still standing; she moved 
along and made place on the wall. “Won’t 
you sit down? Oh, excuse me,” she 
added with an anxious glance at his 
clothes, “I ’m afraid you ’ll get dusty; it 
would be better to bring a chair.” She 
nodded toward the terrace. 

271 


Jerry Junior 

He sat down beside her. 

“I am only too honored; the last time I 
came you did not invite me to sit on the 
wall.” 

“I am sorry if I appeared inhospitable, 
but you came so unexpectedly, Mr. Hil¬ 
liard.” 

“Why 'Mr. Hilliard’ ? When you wrote 
you called me 'dear Jerry’.” 

“That was a slip of the pen; I hope you 
will excuse it.” 

“When I wrote I called you 'Miss Wil¬ 
der’ ; that was a slip of the pen too. What 
I meant to say was 'dear Constance’.” 

She let this pass without comment. 

“I have an apology to make.” 

“Yes?” 

“Once, a long time ago, I insulted you; 
I called you a kid. I take it back; I swal¬ 
low the word. You were never a kid.” 

“Oh,” she dimpled, and then, “I don’t 
believe you remember a thing about it!” 

“Connie Wilder, a little girl in a blue 
sailor suit, and two nice fat braids of 
yellow hair dangling down her back with 
272 




Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his senses 



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Jerry Junior 

red bows on the ends—very convenient for 
pulling/’ 

“You are making that up. You don’t 
remember.” 

“Ah, but I do! And as for the racket 
you were making that afternoon, it was, if 
you will permit the expression, infernal. 
I remember it distinctly; I was trying to 
cram for a math, exam.” 

“It was n’t I. It was your bad little 
sisters and brothers and cousins.” 

“It was you, dear Constance. I saw you 
with my own eyes; I heard you with my 
own ears.” 

“Bobbie Hilliard was pulling my hair.” 

“I apologize on his behalf, and with that 
we will close the incident. There is some¬ 
thing much more important which I wish 
to talk about.” 

“Have you seen Nannie?” She offered 
this hastily not to allow a pause. 

“Yes, dear Constance, I have seen 
Nannie.” 

“Call me 'Miss Wilder’ please.” 

“I ’ll be hanged if I will! You’ve been 
275 


Jerry Junior 

calling me Tony and Jerry and any¬ 
thing else you chose ever since you knew 
me—and long before for the matter of 
that.” 

Constance waived the point. 

“Was she glad to see you?” 

“She ’s always glad to see me.” 

“Oh, don’t be so provoking! Give me 
the particulars. Was she surprised? 
How did you explain the telegrams and 
letters and Gustavo’s stories? I should 
think the Hotel Sole d’ Oro at Riva and 
the walking trip with the Englishman 
must have been difficult.” 

“Not in the least; I told the truth.” 

“The truth! Not all of it?” 

“Every word.” 

“How could you?” There was re¬ 
proach in her accent. 

“It did come hard; I ’m a little out of 
practice.” 

“Did you tell her about—about me?” 

“I had to, Constance. When it came to 
the necessity of squaring all of Gustavo’s 
yarns, my imagination gave out. Any- 
276 


Jerry Junior 

way, I had to tell her out of self-defence; 
she was so superior. She said it was just 
like a man to muddle everything up. Here 
I ’d been ten days in the same town with 
the most charming girl in the world, and 
had n't so much as discovered her name; 
whereas if she had been managing it— 
You see how it was; I had to let her know 
that I was quite capable of taking care 
of myself without any interference from 
her. I even—anticipated a trifle." 

“How ?" 

“She said she was engaged. I told her 
I was too." 

“Indeed!" Constance's tone was re¬ 
mote. “To whom?" 

“The most charming girl in the world." 

“May I ask her name?" 

He laid his hand on his heart in a ges¬ 
ture reminiscent of Tony. “Costantina." 

“Oh! I congratulate you." 

“Thank you—I hoped you would." 

She looked away, gravely, toward the 
Maggiore rising from the midst of its 
clouds. His gaze followed hers, and for 
277 


Jerry Junior 

three minutes there was silence. Then he 
leaned toward her. 

“Constance, will you marry me?” 

“Nor 

A pause of four minutes during which 
Constance stared steadily at the mountain. 
At the end of that time her curiosity over¬ 
came he'r dignity; she glanced at him side- 
wise. He was watching her with a smile, 
partly of amusement, partly of something 
else. 

“Dear Constance, have n’t you had 
enough of play, are you never going to 
grow up? You are such a kid!” 

She turned back to the mountain. 

“I have n’t known you long enough,” 
she threw over her shoulder. 

“Six years!” 

“One week and two days.” 

“Through three incarnations.” 

She laughed a delicious rippling laugh 
of surrender, and slipped her hand into 
his. 

“You don’t deserve it, Jerry, after the 
fib you told your sister, but I think—on the 
whole—I will.” 


278 


Jerry Junior 

Neither noticed that Mr. Wilder had 
stepped out from the house and was stroll¬ 
ing down the cypress alley in their direc¬ 
tion. He rounded the corner in front of 
the parapet, and as his eye fell upon them, 
came to a startled halt. The young man 
failed to let go of her hand, and Constance 
glanced at her father with an apprehen¬ 
sive blush. 

“Here ’s—Tony, Dad. He ’s out of 
jail.” 

“I see he is.” 

She slipped down from the wall and 
brought Jerry with her. 

“We ’d like your parental blessing, 
please. I ’m going to marry him, but 
don’t look so worried. He is n’t really a 
donkey-man nor a Magyar nor an orphan 
nor an organ-grinder nor— any of the 
things he has said he was. He is just 
a plain American man and an awful 
liar!” 

The young man held out his hand and 
Mr. Wilder shook it. 

“Jerry,” he said, “I don’t need to tell 
you how pleased—” 

279 


Jerry Junior 

“ 'Jerry!’ ” echoed Constance. “Father, 
you knew?” 

“Long before you did, my dear.” There 
was a suggestion of triumph in Mr. Wil¬ 
der’s tone. 

“Jerry, you told.” There was reproach, 
scorn, indignation in hers. 

Jerry spread out his hands in a gesture 
of repudiation. 

“What could I do ? He asked my name 
the day we climbed Monte Maggiore; 
naturally, I could n’t tell him a lie.” 

“Then we have n’t fooled anybody. 
How unromantic!” 

“Oh, yes,” said Jerry, “we ’ve fooled 
lots of people. Gustavo does n’t under¬ 
stand, and Giuseppe, you noticed, looked 
rather dazed. Then there ’s Lieutenant 
Carlo di Ferara—” 

“Oh!” said Constance, her face sud¬ 
denly blank. 

“You can explain to him now,” said her 
father, peering through the trees. 

A commotion had suddenly arisen on 
the terrace—the rumble of wheels, the 
280 


Jerry Junior 

confused mingling of voices. Constance 
and Jerry looked too. They found the yel¬ 
low omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof 
laden with luggage, drawn up at the end 
of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and 
Nannie on the point of descending. The 
center of the terrace was already occu¬ 
pied by Lieutenant di Ferara, who, with 
heels clicked together and white gloved 
hands at salute, was in the act of achieving 
a military bow. Miss Hazel fluttering 
from the door, in one breath welcomed the 
guests, presented the lieutenant, and or¬ 
dered Giuseppe to convey the luggage up¬ 
stairs. Then she glanced questioningly 
about the terrace. 

“I thought Constance and her father 
were here—Giuseppe!'' 

Giuseppe dropped his end of a trunk and 
approached. Miss Hazel handed him the 
lieutenant's card. “The signorina and the 
signore— in the garden, I think." 

Giuseppe advanced upon the garden. 
Jerry's face, at the sight, became as blank 
as Constance's. The two cast upon each 
281 


Jerry Junior 

other a glance of guilty terror, and from 
this looked wildly behind for a means of 
escape. Their eyes simultaneously lighted 
on the break in the garden wall. Jerry 
sprang up and pulled Constance after him. 
On the top, she gathered her skirts to¬ 
gether preparatory to jumping, then 
turned back for a moment toward her 
father. 

“Dad,” she called in a stage whisper, 
“you go and meet him like a gentleman. 
Tell him you are very sorry, but your 
daughter is not at home today.” 

The two conspirators scrambled down 
on the other side; and Mr. Wilder with a 
sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet 
the guests. 



























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